


Breaking Point

by AmberBrown



Series: Earning Their Keep [14]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-14 21:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: A thought occurred to him. This Musketeer that was to be arrested. Was he the only one of Treville’s men who was a sinner? There had been an accusation, over a year before. Perhaps Richelieu could have another man caught and executed? Two Musketeers. The discredit to Treville would be huge.The Cardinal smiled. He just had to remember the Musketeers name.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the previous stories and characters from this series are mentioned or make an appearance in this piece but you do not need to have read the other stories to understand this (but I am not stopping you!). 
> 
> All you need to know is that Aramis and d’Artagnan are in an established relationship, and both men have mistresses. 
> 
> I'm no historian so please take historical inaccuracies as mistakes on my part. In this piece I have treated Richelieu as Dumas did. I have given him more power than he probably had. He is, basically, in charge, or he’d like to think he is.
> 
> This piece is complete, I shall post a chapter a day. But please remember that I work shifts so although it will be a chapter a day in the UK, it might not be elsewhere!

Treville watched as Richelieu listened intently to the man talking to him. The Cardinal had been mid-conversation with him about a scuffle that had occurred between a couple of the Musketeer cadets and two Red Guardsmen. When the man, a swarthy dirty looking man had approached, the Cardinal had immediately excused himself and walked across to the man. Treville sighed, it was not unusual for the Cardinal to lose interest in issues between the Musketeers and the Red Guard, particularly when it was the Red Guard at fault. 

The two cadets had wandered into a tavern that was generally regarded as Red Guard territory. The young men had not known, they said the wrong thing in the tavern and received a beating for their troubles. It had been fortunate when the fight spilt out to the street that Aramis and d’Artagnan had been walking passed and were able to break up the four men. The two cadets had been escorted back to the garrison where his two Musketeers had patched them up and sent them on their way.

Richelieu was glancing across at him a wicked smile played across his thin lips as he did so. The dirty man nodded before walking away. Richelieu crossed back to Treville.

‘That was a most enlightening conversation,’ said the Cardinal. 

Treville sighed inwardly, he waited silently for Richelieu to continue, not wishing to humour him by asking why the conversation had been so enlightening.

The Cardinal continued when he realised Treville was not going to speak.

‘My man there is an interrogator at the Chatelet. He has been busy lately with a man who was caught in the process of fornication with another man,’ Richelieu pulled a face of pure disgust at the idea.

Treville remained impassive, he was not about to be drawn into a conversation about who should be allowed to be with who. He knew several men who were in relationships with other men and whilst he would not want to be with another man himself he had no issue with it. What Treville did have an issue with was the people who deemed it a sin. How could being with someone you cared about be a sin? 

The Cardinal continued, ‘this man, Simon Berger, he has been working with my interrogator for a few days now…’

Treville did his best not to react to the implications of what that work would have entailed. He had seen first hand what interrogators were capable of and he did not agree with their methods. Too often people confessed to crimes they had not committed just to end their own suffering and sometimes that meant naming co-conspirators who may or may not have been guilty. Treville wondered if that was where the Cardinal was heading with his smug diatribe.

‘...and I think, Treville, you should know that he has named one of the men he has had dealings with.’

Treville wondered why the Cardinal was so keen to impart this knowledge to him.

‘The man is a Musketeer.’

The Cardinal could not hide the smirk. He looked at Treville’s face searching for a reaction. After taking a breath Treville replied.

‘Are you sure? Perhaps your interrogator went too far?’

‘Berger named the Musketeer; Marc Bardet. I know the name, I’ve spoken to him on a couple of occasions.’

Treville thought fast, it was entirely possible Bardet had been implicated. Treville knew the man was that way inclined, but he was discreet like the other Musketeers who shared a similar lifestyle. That one of his men had been outed in such a way appalled him. Bardet would be arrested and executed and there was nothing he could do about it.

‘Shall I send some Red Guard to have him arrested, I doubt you would want him around your other men any longer than necessary?’

‘No,’ replied Treville firmly, ‘I will see he is arrested myself. I shall return to the garrison now and see to the matter personally. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.’

Treville nodded to the Cardinal and walked away. He left the palace quickly. A plan forming in his head. He would do everything he could to save the life of his man. But he had to act fast.

MMMM

‘Hey!’ yelled Aramis as the two street children ran off.

D’Artagnan ran after them for a few yards to make sure they did not return. As he turned back to Aramis, and the frail old woman the boys had knocked down, he was not surprised by what he saw.

Aramis was crouched down by the old woman, and with a gentleness that should not be possible for a soldier, was feeling along her arm for any injury. The stunned old woman was looking up at Aramis with watery eyes.

‘It’s alright Madam,’ said Aramis softly, ‘they’ve gone now, are you hurt?’

‘No monsieur,’ the woman replied, her voice shaky with the shock of being pushed over.

‘Do you think you can stand? We’ll escort you home.’

‘You don’t need to do that, monsieur,’ said the woman, ‘you’ve got your own work to do.’

‘This is our work, Madam,’ said Aramis with a smile, ‘making sure the citizens of Paris are safe.’

The old woman smiled up at the tall Musketeer. D’Artagnan waited patiently for Aramis to help the woman up. She was clearly shivering. Aramis put his arm around her shoulders and held her close to him as they slowly walked along the street. D’Artagnan walked beside them listening to the idle conversation Aramis had struck up with the woman. He smiled as he watched his lover keep the woman distracted from her recent fall. The woman indicated a rather dilapidated house in an equally run-down row of houses. The woman opened the door and allowed Aramis to help her in.

D’Artagnan followed and waited by the door as Aramis settled the old woman in a threadbare chair and lay a blanket over her knees. He crouched in front of her and took her hands in his. 

‘Is there anything else we can do for you? Do you have any family we can call on for you?’

The woman shook her head, ‘no monsieur I am all alone...but you have brightened my day considerably.’

The old woman smiled cheekily at Aramis before continuing.

‘I might have to get myself knocked over again so that handsome young men can come to my rescue.’

She reached up and stroked Aramis’ cheek with her wrinkled hand. Aramis caught her hand in his, he kissed her fingers gently as he smiled back at her. 

‘My pleasure Madam.’

As they walked away from the house d’Artagnan turned to his lover, but before he could speak Aramis beat him to it. 

‘Are you jealous? I got the lady that time.’

D’Artagnan laughed, ‘you are far too generous and kind.’

D’Artagnan bumped his shoulder against his lovers as they walked. He wished he could grab the man and push him against a wall and kiss him, show him how much he loved him. But that would be a foolhardy thing to do. D’Artagnan settled for smiling at him instead. 

Aramis winked at him before saying quietly, ‘I will show you just how generous I am tonight, if you want?’

D’Artagnan rolled his eyes before subtly nodding. All too soon they were back at the marketplace where any chance of a personal conversation was gone. 

MMMM

Treville rounded the corner and walked briskly into the garrison. He looked about for the men he could trust to carry out his orders without question. He spotted Athos and Porthos watching another couple of Musketeers sparring. Treville nodded to them and indicated for them to follow him. 

Once they had entered his office and Porthos had shut the door Treville turned to them both.

‘Bardet has been named by a man...Simon Berger, during an interrogation at the Chatelet.’

Treville did not need to go into the details. The look on both the Musketeers faces told him that they understood. Bardet was a hard-working man who would not get into trouble. They knew what his sexual preferences were and also knew that must have been the only reason he had been named by a man undergoing interrogation.

‘Where is he now?’ asked Athos. 

‘He’s delivering a missive. He’s due back tomorrow. He should be staying at a tavern I recommended to him. With luck Porthos, you should be able to find him easily.’

‘Find him? For what purpose?’

‘To give him the option of desertion.’

Both men stared at him.

‘If he comes back here he will be arrested. Richelieu thinks that is what I am doing right now.’

Treville paused as he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a locked box. He opened the box with a key from his pocket. He extracted some money.

‘This is his salary, and a little extra,’ Treville handed the money to Porthos, ‘give it to him, it should be enough for him to start a new life somewhere else. He can’t come back to Paris. I’ll tell the Cardinal he heard a rumour that he was going to be arrested and ran away.’

Porthos nodded slowly, ‘is this really the only thing we can do?’

Athos looked at Porthos, ‘it is. You know what they are like, they would beat a confession out of him.’

Porthos replied, ‘you’re right, where is the tavern?’

Treville had grabbed a piece of paper and was writing directions, he handed the paper to Porthos, ‘you won’t be missed for a couple of days, you’re only just back on full duties.’

Treville watched as Porthos unconsciously rubbed his left hand across his right forearm where the break to the bone had been.

‘I guess another couple of days light duties would do me good,’ he said, ‘I’ll leave right away.’

Porthos nodded to Treville and after a quick slap on the shoulder by way of goodbye to Athos he left the room, closing the door behind him.

‘Sir,’ said Athos, ‘I think we should keep Aramis and d’Artagnan apart for a few days. Or at least make sure they are not seen together without other Musketeers with them.’

Treville furrowed his brow.

‘They visited Monsieur Berger several times when he was helping out Gosse, the young man we rescued.’

Realisation dawned on Treville, he had thought the name of the man being held at the Chatelet was familiar, now he knew why. 

‘Gosse was the young lad that helped us get Porthos and d’Artagnan back from those men who had a vendetta against Aramis.’

Athos nodded, ‘Berger looked after Gosse for a couple of weeks. I know Aramis, d’Artagnan and Bardet had a meal with Berger, they could have been seen together.’

Treville sighed, ‘even an innocent meeting can, and will, be twisted and mangled into something sinister. Yes, Athos, find them, now. I know they are patrolling the markets today, together. Find them and split them up. Send Aramis home, we’ll pretend he’s been taken ill.’

‘Yes Captain,’ said Athos as he turned to the door. 

‘Let us hope nothing comes of any of this. Let us hope poor Monsieur Berger does not have to suffer any further.’

Athos nodded his agreement.

MMMM

As Athos walked briskly towards the marketplace he knew Aramis and d’Artagnan were patrolling he thought about the forbidden relationship his friends were in. Athos was not a particularly religious man and had no issue with his friend's relationship, at least not now. He smiled ruefully at the thought of how he had behaved when it had first become clear that his friends were lovers. He had initially thought it was a mistake for Aramis and d’Artagnan to be in a relationship and to work closely, he had contemplated asking for Treville to reassign one of them away from the group. But their relationship had not affected their little group at all. 

Until now. 

Now Athos was going to have to split the two up. For their own safety. The unfairness of the situation struck him. His friends had done nothing wrong. Bardet had done nothing wrong. Berger had done nothing wrong. They were just people who wanted to be with other people. But the Church and society had decided that his friends could not be with the people they wanted to be with. 

The manner with which Berger was no doubt being treated was abhorrent to him. He had been party to interrogation in the past. They were rarely truly effective. He knew now that Berger had confessed to his sin he would be executed, there was no escape for the poor man. And the manner of that execution was likely to be horrific. Not only would the man have endured torture to make him confess he would effectively be tortured to death to add to his punishment. 

And, if he were caught Bardet would face the same fate. There was always a chance, with a quick confession, for a less barbaric judge to hand down a sentence of a swift death. But the man would still be executed. 

Athos understood why capital punishments were handed down, for heinous crimes it made some sense. But to punish a man because he did not want to be with a woman made no sense. 

The market was busy, it took Athos a few minutes to find his friends. As he approached them they were talking and laughing about something. Athos hated that he was going to spoil their day. He was going to remind them that what they shared was forbidden. 

Aramis slung his arm across d’Artagnan’s shoulders and said something quietly into his ear. D’Artagnan pushed him off and laughed. The move was innocent, Aramis had probably made a joke about something nearby. On any other day, Athos would barely have registered what had happened. 

But today it registered. Today he saw his friends differently. He saw them as the eyes of the interrogator would see them. The simple move could have been enough to draw the attention of someone whose curiosity had been peaked. If the idea was put into someone's head that two friends were more than that, the wrong conclusions would be leapt to. It was a move that any one of them could have made and had done frequently in the past. Porthos was forever slapping them on the shoulder. Aramis was tactile all the time, with them all. But it did not mean anything. They were close friends.

A simple friendly gesture, when backed up with fear and misinformation could condemn a man to pain and suffering for no reason. 

They lived in unenlightened times, thought Athos with disdain.

MMMM

D’Artagnan glanced across at his lover. Aramis was listening intently to Athos. Their friend had led them to a quiet corner of the marketplace where they could talk without being disturbed. As he had related what had occurred Aramis had paled considerably. The smiles and jokes from a few minutes earlier forgotten. 

‘Porthos has gone to find Bardet. Treville wants to give him a chance to run. He cannot return to Paris,’ said Athos, ‘Berger gave him up, the poor man was probably tortured and beaten until they broke him.’

‘Poor Marc,’ said d’Artagnan quietly.

He had been grateful to Bardet for his help a few weeks before. The man had calmly dealt with the situation that did not have anything to do with him. When d’Artagnan and Porthos had been captured, Aramis had needed someone he could trust to deal with their abduction. 

And now. Now their friend could not return to the city he loved, or the job he was proud to do. 

‘We do not know if the interrogator is going to keep working on Berger. I know you two met with him a few times. Does he know about you?’ asked Athos. 

D’Artagnan nodded.

‘You two are going to have to keep apart for a while. Until they are finished with Berger, until they have…’

‘...executed him,’ said Aramis quietly.

Athos nodded. Aramis looked away for a few seconds blinking. D’Artagnan wanted to touch his lover, just a hand on his arm, but felt that he could not. Any contact between them would be wrong somehow. The seriousness of the situation meant that they would have to remain apart until the man who might give them up as wrongdoers was dead and could no longer give them up.

‘Go home, Aramis, if anyone asks, you have been taken ill. You cannot be seen together, just the two of you.’

Aramis nodded again, he glanced at d’Artagnan for a second. D’Artagnan could see his friend was struggling not to shed tears. Without another word, Aramis walked away, quickly lost in the crowd of people milling around in the marketplace.

‘Did you know that he and Bardet were...together a couple of times a few years ago?’ asked d’Artagnan.

Athos signed, ‘no, I did not, that explains why he is so upset by this. I am sorry we are having to keep you apart, but it is for your own safety.’

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘I know. But provided poor Simon does not talk any further we should be safe,’ he said grimly, ‘no one else suspects us.’

MMMM

Richelieu sat back in his chair, he looked down at the death warrant in front of him. Berger would be broken on the wheel. He would be killed slowly and painfully. No less than the sinning, heathen man deserved. The Cardinal thought it was a pity the man Berger had been caught with was already dead. He had thrown himself into the river and been washed away. The body had been fished out that morning. Far too easy a death for such a man. 

A thought occurred to him. This Musketeer that was to be arrested. Was he the only one of Treville’s men who was a sinner? There had been an accusation, over a year before. One of his men, Damon, had been caught stealing from the Palace. Before he was hanged he had implicated a Musketeer as being a sodomite. Richelieu had dismissed the idea at the time. The man was trying to get out of a death sentence. But now, knowing that there were other Musketeers who were that way inclined, the Cardinal wondered if his Red Guardsman had been telling the truth. 

Perhaps Richelieu could have another man caught and executed? Two Musketeers. The discredit to Treville would be huge. 

The Cardinal smiled. He just had to remember the Musketeers name. 

MMMM

Aramis slowly opened his eyes, he was lying on his side, his arm reaching across the bed. Where d’Artagnan should have been. As the events of the previous day ordered themselves in his head he sighed.

His friend was a wanted man, his friend's lover was awaiting execution and he and his own lover were having to stay apart. It sickened him that they were having to be apart whilst they waited for Simon Berger to be killed. It was not an execution; it was murder. The man had done nothing other than want to be with another man. How was that wrong?

Aramis sighed again and pushed himself over onto his back. He wondered how long they would keep poor Simon waiting for what would no doubt be the release of death? He had known the Chatelets interrogators to keep people alive for weeks as they were questioned. Once they knew that Bardet had deserted and provided Simon did not name any more men there would be no point in prolonging his agony. Would there?

He threw off the blankets that had covered him and went about his morning ablutions. His mind continuing to circle back to the awful situation they were in. He wondered what the other Musketeers at the garrison would think of Bardet? It would not take long for the news to spread. He knew that some of the men were open-minded. He did not think there were any that would have turned another in for the sin of loving another man. In any group of men such as the Musketeers, there were always some who lived the same lifestyle as himself. The men would not be shocked to find out that their group was no exception.

He hoped they would be sympathetic to Bardet’s plight and not judge him. 

He had just finished doing up his breeches and was about to reach for his boots when the door to his rooms was kicked open, the wood splintering at the impact. Several men ran into the room. 

Aramis had no time to reach his weapons. The men, Red Guard, Aramis realised, swarmed over him. He was grabbed roughly and pushed over onto the floor and held there firmly. One man leaned over him heavily, pushing into his back, a hand pressed against his head preventing him from moving. A second man was kneeling across his legs, the pain of the action radiating throughout his body. 

Aramis was too stunned to speak, he did not cry out either in pain or anger. He tried, briefly, to struggle against the men but realised it was futile. 

As he lay there, he could hear the men around him. They were moving between the two small rooms. He could hear them in his bedroom, pulling drawers out and searching through his belongings. He could hear things being smashed and broken. He heard what sounded like his bed being tipped up, the crash reverberating through the floorboards beneath him. 

As the activity went on around him another man had pulled his arms backwards and snapped manacles to his wrists, the clink of a short chain between the manacles told Aramis he would have little movement in his arms.

All the activity around him did not cloud the one thought that stayed at the front of his mind. The one thing that had preoccupied him from the second his door was kicked in. 

Was d’Artagnan receiving the same treatment?

Had Berger given them both up? Had Bardet been arrested and given them up? Why else would this be happening?

He could not think of any other reason he was being treated in this manner. There was nothing else he had done recently that could cause him to be arrested. 

Someone had given him up. But who?

As the ransacking of his rooms carried on and the men holding him continued to push him into the floor a thought occurred to him. 

Damon.

The realisation hit him hard. Why had he not considered the possibility that from beyond the grave the vile man would have the last laugh? 

Damon had spent his remaining days making continuous accusations about himself. The Cardinal had not reacted, they believed him to have dismissed the notion at the time. The thought had not crossed his mind that the Cardinal would remember the accusation.

But of course he would, the man had ordered the arrest of a Musketeer for sodomy. And he had heard accusations a year before of a similar nature. Of course, Aramis would be arrested. It was inevitable. The only positive thing he could think of, the only glimpse of hope, was that Damon had not named d’Artagnan, only him. D’Artagnan might be safe, for now. 

The men holding him hauled him up to stand. The lieutenant moved to stand in front of him. The man sneered. Aramis recognised him as someone he had once knocked out in a swordfight. He could do nothing to protect himself from the swift punch he received to the face. His head snapped back. 

Before his vision had cleared they started to drag him from his rooms. He was forced down the stairs stumbling as he went. He was vaguely aware of his landlady voicing protests at what was happening. He hoped they had not hurt her when they entered the house. She did not deserve to be harmed. He hoped they would not accuse her of harbouring him.

A cart was waiting in the street. He could see a small group of people watching the proceedings. He was roughly pushed onto the cart. The two men holding him climbing up as well. He was not allowed to sit, he was forced to lie down and held there.

None of the men had spoken to him, no reason for his arrest had been given.

But he knew.

He knew, what was in store for him. He would be taken to the Chatelet, he would be tortured, interrogated and executed. 

For love. 

And his only thought as he was driven away towards his fate was that he could not, must not, would not, give up his lover. He would not utter his lover's name. That was the only thing he had to do from that moment, until they killed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews and kudos!

The tavern he knew Bardet would have stayed in was situated on its own. No other buildings could be seen. The area was quite desolate. Porthos imagined the tavern to be a beacon of hope to any weary traveller. 

He stopped his horse at the side of the building. As he dismounted he became aware of someone approaching him. 

‘Porthos?’ said Bardet with a smile as he walked up, ‘I thought you were still on light duties? Don’t let Aramis know you’re out and about, I doubt he’ll approve if you strain that arm.’

Bardet’s smile quickly disappeared when he saw Porthos’ expression.

‘We need to talk, privately.’

‘What’s happened?’ 

‘Not here,’ replied Porthos looking around. 

He glanced up at a window above them, a woman was looking down at them both. Bardet followed Porthos’ gaze, realising that whatever Porthos had to say was serious. 

Porthos followed as Bardet led him away from the tavern. Once they were far enough away to talk without being overheard and in a position where they could see anyone approaching them Porthos took a breath and began. What he had come to say was not pleasant but he had to tell Bardet everything. He had to make the man understand what they were asking him to do. For his own sake. 

‘Simon Berger was arrested a few days ago,’ started Porthos.

He paused when he saw the look on Bardet’s face. Bardet knew why his friend had been arrested. He knew because they were more than friends. Porthos could see the implications rushing through Bardet’s mind.

Porthos continued, ‘he’s given you up, I’m sorry.’

Bardet could not hide his shock.

‘They broke him yesterday. The Cardinal has ordered your arrest…’

‘Is that why you’re here...to arrest me?’

Porthos managed a small smile, ‘no Marc, I’m here to give you this.’

He pulled the money bag from his pocket and dropped it into Bardet’s hand. The man looked at him confused.

‘That is your wages and a little extra courtesy of Treville...Marc,’ said Porthos reaching up to rest his hands on either side of the slighter man’s shoulders, ‘you have to run, you can’t be a Musketeer anymore. You can’t go back to Paris, ever.’

Porthos could tell Bardet was struggling to take all that he had been told in. His lover had been arrested and he had been implicated for the same crime.

With tears in his eyes, Bardet took a step back. He reached up to his pauldron and slowly unbuckled it. He slipped it down his arm. He looked down at it for a few seconds, tracing the outline of the fleur-de-lis with his fingers.

‘I remember the day I got this, I was so happy…’ he said quietly, ‘how can it all change so quickly?’

Porthos did not reply. He could not, there was nothing he could say to the man that could help him. 

‘Simon is a good man, I know he would not have wanted to give me up...he would have tried not to…’

Bardet paused, he looked off into the distance a tear split from his eye and slid down his cheek. 

‘Does Aramis know, and d’Artagnan? Simon knows they’re together.’

Porthos nodded, he was sure his friends would be aware of the situation and were being careful.

‘Can you tell them...tell them to be careful? I know they are, but it doesn’t take much for suspicion to start.’

‘I’ll tell them. Give me your cloak as well.’

Bardet nodded, he walked back toward the tavern, heading for the stable situated at the side. A young boy was there holding the reins to Bardet’s horse. Bardet reached into the purse of money he had just been given and gave the boy a coin. The boy smiled and clutched the coin tightly as he handed over the reins. 

When the boy had run off Bardet pulled his Musketeer cloak from his saddle bag. He handed it to Porthos. After a final look at his pauldron, he handed that to Porthos as well. 

Bardet looked at the ground for a few seconds before turning to Porthos.

‘If, somehow you get the chance to see Simon, before...before they...could you tell him...goodbye and that I don’t bear him any ill will for what he did?’

Porthos nodded, he knew it was unlikely he would be able to pass the message on, but if Bardet thought there was a chance it might help the man with his grief. 

‘Where will you go?’ asked Porthos.

Bardet shook his head, ‘I don’t know...I’ve never really thought about what life would be like, not being a Musketeer. I always thought I would die in battle. Don’t we all?’

Porthos nodded. Bardet was shaking, Porthos glanced around, there was no chance of them being seen. He stepped forward and pulled the man toward him and embraced him for a few seconds. When he pushed Bardet away the man was smiling.

‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘and thank Treville for me, he didn’t have to do this...give me the chance to escape.’

Porthos shook his head, ‘I don’t think any other option crossed his mind.’

MMMM

Athos stared at the woman who had just rushed through the garrison gate. She spotted him and ran toward him. D’Artagnan took a few steps forward the concern evident on his face. 

Aramis’ landlady would not visit the garrison on a whim. Something had happened to Aramis. The skinny, middle-aged, woman was holding the marksman’s doublet, hat and pauldron. Her face was flushed, she looked like she had been crying.

‘They took him,’ she gasped as she skidded to stop in front of them. 

‘Who took him?’ asked Athos.

Athos was pleased to see d’Artagnan not reacting to the news that Aramis had been attacked in some way. The landlady glanced at d’Artagnan before continuing.

‘Red Guard. They came in, one of them pointed a gun at me, told me to be quiet. They went into his room. I heard things being broken. Then they dragged him out. The’d bound his arms behind him. They threw him into a cart and left.’

She was panting slightly. She looked at d’Artagnan again. Athos got the impression she knew about his friend's relationship with Aramis. He was not surprised. Aramis had related how she had caught him sneaking a man out of the house one morning. She could not prove what he had been doing but had intimated that she would turn him in if he did not pay her the same sort of attention. She was not vindictive, Aramis had known she would not turn him in, he paid her well for the rooms and she needed the income. 

D’Artagnan stepped forward and reached out for the clothing she was carrying. She handed it to him, holding his gaze as she did so. 

She knows, thought Athos. 

‘When did this happen?’ asked d’Artagnan.

Athos could detect a slight tremor in his voice.

‘I came as soon as they went. I grabbed those off one of the men as they were leaving. They stole all his personal belongings, all that is left is the furniture and that is either in disarray or damaged.’

She paused for a second before adding, ‘I’ll help you get him back, I’ll speak for him. Tell them that...whatever he’s supposed to have done, he did not.’

‘Thank you, madam,’ said Athos, ‘please let us handle it from now on, we will contact you if we need you.’

The woman nodded. She smiled sadly at d’Artagnan before walking away, wiping her eyes as she did so. 

D’Artagnan looked at Athos, the question obvious. 

What should they do? 

MMMM

Everything had happened too fast. They had been on patrol together less than a day ago. They had walked together in the sunshine a matter of hours ago. They had been looking forward to a night together. D’Artagnan imagined them both, slowly stripping the other of his clothes. Perhaps they would have teased each other. They would have kissed and touched each other. Then they would have held each other.

Would he get to hold his lover again? Was that it? Was there to be no more kisses or warm embraces? 

‘D’Artagnan…’

Aramis meant everything to him. If he could not be with the man anymore what was there left for him?

‘D’Artagnan…’

A hand on his arm forced him to focus. Athos was leading him away from the centre of the garrison courtyard. A few of the other men had been watching them. He was unsure if they had heard what Madam Poulin had said.

‘You need to calm down.’

D’Artagnan had not realised how quickly he was breathing. He nodded and took a few deep breaths. 

‘What do we do?’

‘You do not do anything. You go to your room and wait for me. I am going to talk to Treville.’

D’Artagnan nodded.

‘You cannot draw attention to yourself. People will expect you to be upset that one of your best friends has been arrested, but that is all. We all love Aramis and we are all going to be worried about him. But you must not draw any more attention to yourself. Do you understand me?’

D’Artagnan took another deep breath as he nodded. He knew Athos was not berating him, Athos was trying to keep him safe. Athos did not want him to share the same fate as Aramis.

‘Go to your room now, and wait there.’

D’Artagnan walked away, clutching Aramis’ things tightly as he did so. He walked quickly to his room. His bare room that was merely there for the few days he did not spend with either Aramis or Constance. He wished Constance was there and not away with her husband. She would have told him what to do. Instead, he was going to have to deal with the situation on his own. 

As he shut the door, he found that he could no longer stand. He sank down to his knees and let out a silent scream. The tears finally falling from his eyes. He clutched his lover’s doubled, burying his face in it.

They had arrested his lover. Aramis was gone. D’Artagnan knew that he would not be coming back. Not from that. If Simon Berger was any guide Aramis would be kept alive and interrogated. His lover would be tortured, he would be hurt, he would be broken. And then he would die.

What could he do? What could they do? D’Artagnan knew that Athos and Pothos would want to do anything they could for their friend. Could they help him to escape?

D’Artagnan knew that would not happen. The Red Guard would not allow their prise to get away. An arrested Musketeer would be guarded well. There would be no escape. 

D’Artagnan stared ahead as the very real future played out in his mind. A future without his lover. 

A future without Aramis.

MMMM

Aramis was pulled from the cart with little care for his well being. But Aramis knew that his well being was not important anymore. The men who had him only cared about one thing. All they wanted from him was a confession, a confession he knew he could not give. If he confessed that he had slept with other men the interrogator would want to know who those men were. 

He was walked roughly into the confines of the depressing building, its oppressive high walls closed in on him. He wondered if he would ever see the outside world again. He suspected if he did it would be the day he died. He wondered if he would be executed in public, a spectacle for all to see? Or would the King not wish to have one of his Musketeer’s killed in public for fear of Royal humiliation, it would not be out of compassion on his part. 

As they marched him into a dank room he wondered if d’Artagnan knew he had been arrested? He wondered how Athos and Porthos would react? What would Treville do? What could any of them do?

Nothing.

The answer was that he was alone, he could not be helped. All he could do was keep d’Artagnan safe by not breaking. But could he manage that? He would do his best but he would have a limit, a point where he begged for mercy, where he would speak to his tormentors. He hated himself for even thinking that he would reach that point.

They stood him in the centre of the room, he could not help but glance around at the array of equipment and chains. Devices of torture that he recognised, and some he did not. 

In front of him stood a broadly built man who was sneering at him. His swarthy complexion at odds with the pale prisoners he had seen recoiling from the bars as he was walked passed.

‘My name is Gagnon. I am going to be your companion over the next few days...or weeks. The length of time we are acquainted for is up to you my friend.’

The man looked Aramis up and down. Aramis was aware that his breathing had sped up, he tried to calm it down. He knew he was shaking. He admitted to himself that he was scared. What if he spoke? What if he confessed?

‘You are an intelligent man Monsieur, you know what is going to happen. You also know how to prevent it. Speak now. Confess now to your sin and tell us the names of the men you have sinned with and you will be granted a swift death.’

Aramis did not respond.

‘You will be executed. You understand that, I know you do. But I have been given permission to help you to confess if necessary. I have been given permission to help you to remember the names of the men you have been with.’

Aramis could not help another glance at the torturous devices around the room. 

‘Very well,’ said Gagnon with a smile, ‘shall we begin?’

He nodded to a man standing to his side. The man, a little younger than Gagnon stepped forward. He had burn marks covering his arms and a scar across his cheek. The man stopped in front of Aramis who could feel the two Red Guard tighten their grip on his arms.

The man punched Aramis hard in the stomach. The air knocked out of him Aramis bent forward a few inches, the men holding him would not let him bend any further. As he leaned forward a second punch connected with this jaw, pushing his head back. His vision greyed. A sharp pain in his knee caused him to stumble to the ground landing hard, unable to stop himself, his arms still restrained behind him. The Red Guard had let him fall. 

‘You may go, he will be perfectly safe with us.’

Aramis tired to push himself up to kneel but was kicked over. He lay on his side panting. He managed to focus on Gagnon who has crouched next to him. The man reached forward and grabbed him by the hair and yanked him upwards. Aramis could not help a hiss of pain as he was pulled up to his knees. 

‘Confess…’

Aramis stared at the man.

‘Who have you been with?’

Aramis continued to stare at Gagnon. 

‘If you do not answer me I shall cut out your tongue.’

‘If I have no tongue how can I answer you?’

Gagnon punched him in the side of the face. The other man grabbed him by the shoulders and kept him upright. Aramis let his head fall forward, the beating was already having an effect on him. 

‘Confess…’

‘To what?’

Gagnon chuckled, ‘do you think you are clever? Do you think you can talk yourself out of this?’

Aramis managed to smirk at the man.

Gagnon slapped him before saying, ‘I will break you, it will be my pleasure...you are a sodomite, you are a filthy whore, laying with other men. Do you corrupt younger men? Turn them into men like you?’

‘I have never slept with a man.’

Gagnon grabbed him under the chin and lifted his head up, his fingers dug into his jaw painfully.

‘Confess now.’

Aramis shook his head unable to speak in his current position.

‘Very well, let me show you something before we have our first session.’

The scarred man pulled Aramis up to his feet. Gagnon grabbed his other arm. The two men, who were strong walked him from the room. Aramis knew he would not be able to shrug his way free of the men.

They stopped a few yards along the corridor. Gagnon pushed Aramis forward, shoving him hard against the bars of the nearest cell. 

The cell was only lit by the flames of the torches in the corridor. The cell was bare except for its sole occupant. 

Simon Berger was lying on his side by the far wall. The flicker of the light playing across his face. The man wore only his breeches. His body a sea of bruising and abrasions. He had burn marks across his chest and what looked like wounds caused by flesh being ripped away in chunks on his arms. His wrists were bloody from where he had been manacled. He wore no manacles now, he was not restrained in any way. The man did not need to be restrained. The man was barely alive. 

He was pale, his skin looked clammy. His eyes were sunken and haunted. The fingers of his right hand were all bent and misshapen, each was broken. He was missing several fingernails. There was obvious signs of infection in the man who was shivering. 

As Aramis watched Simon moved his lips slightly. He wondered what the man was saying? What mumbled words were spilling from his mouth? Was he further confessing?

Simon Berger had been broken, he was a shell now, he was not a man. Simon Berger was already dead, his spirit was gone only the vessel he had inhabited remained. 

‘This will be you when I have finished with you...take a good look Aramis, drink it in. This is what is in store for you.’

Simon looked at Aramis, the man seemed to have focused on him. Aramis could not help but stare back. 

Gagnon pulled Aramis away, dragging him along the corridor. The other man walked ahead a few feet pulling a set of keys from his belt as he did so. The man opened a cell door wide. Gagnon pushed Aramis into the cell. 

Unable to stop himself Aramis crashed into the opposite wall and sank to his knees. He looked back as the barred door was slammed shut. 

‘Welcome Monsieur Aramis, I do not know how long your stay with us will be, but I look forward to working with you.’

MMMM

Treville glared at the two men who had escorted him along the corridor. When he knew which cell he was being shown to he stopped walking. The two men took the hint and backed off. He continued to stare at them until they retreated back along the corridor. Treville knew he would have to talk quietly but he would, at least, be able to talk without being heard. 

He approached the last cell and looked in. Aramis was sat, awkwardly opposite the door. When he saw Treville he struggled to his feet and crossed to the door. Treville shook his head in disgust when he realised Aramis had his wrists manacled behind him, the short chain pulling his arms back. 

Treville glanced along the corridor ensuring his escorts were still well out of the way. 

‘I’m sorry Aramis, if I had known this was going to happen…’

Aramis managed a smile, ‘how could you have known sir, it never even crossed my mind...it was the Cardinal wasn’t it, remembering Damon?’

Treville nodded. Aramis was trying to sound calm, but the fear could easily be heard in the tremor of his voice. Aramis knew what lay in store for himself and from the look of him he had already been subjected to a taste of what was to come. 

Aramis had bruises on his face, he looked a little unfocused. 

‘We are going to do everything we can...but Aramis, you must not confess. If you confess we...we won’t be able to help you.’

Aramis nodded. 

‘Get him away,’ Aramis whispered.

Treville wondered what Aramis meant for a few seconds before he nodded.

‘Get him away, make him go...I don’t want to...I’ll try not to...but...what if I…’

Treville raised his hand to stop Aramis from saying anything else. They were out of earshot of the guards but he did not want to tempt fate. He knew what Aramis was saying. He knew that Aramis was fearful that he would be broken that he would be tortured into a confession and then hurt further. Hurt until he gave up d’Artagnan. 

Every man had a breaking point. No one could last forever.

‘I will see to it. He’ll be gone by tomorrow.’

Aramis nodded slowly, ‘thank you.’

Treville watched as Aramis looked away. The usual sparkle gone from his eyes. Treville wondered if Aramis had already accepted his fate. If he had already accepted that he would be executed. The man had only been arrested a few hours before. Aramis was saying goodbye. 

The one thing that annoyed Treville the most, the one thing that made Treville feel guilty was that he was inclined to agree with Aramis. 

The chances of Aramis leaving the Chatelet alive were very slim. 

‘Aramis,’ said Treville hoping that he sounded more positive than he felt, ‘please try not to give up. There is hope. Don’t give up. Please.’

Aramis looked at him, ‘I’ll try.’

Treville wondered if he would.

MMMM

The sound of Treville’s footsteps leaving the Chatelet had barely dissipated before Gagnon appeared at the door to the cell, the key turning in the lock. 

‘Now that’s out of the way, we can begin, properly this time.’

The scarred man and two other guards entered the cell, Aramis backed away from them. He did not know why, there was nowhere for him to go. They grabbed him and pulled him back along the corridor. Back to the room with the chains and the equipment.

He was stood in the centre of the room. The chain between the manacles was undone, but he remained held firmly by the men as long chains were lowered from the ceiling and attached to his wrists. His arms were pulled up above him, they did not stop raising his arms until he was only barely able to maintain contact with the floor. His shoulders began to hurt almost instantly as they took most of his weight. 

Gagnon had been looking at a selection of whips and lashes lined up neatly along a wall. Aramis knew what was in store. His shirt was cut and ripped from his body. Gagnon picked up a lash and turned back to Aramis with a grin. He raised and lowered his arm quickly, the lash whipping through the air. 

‘I find this one quite satisfying,’ he said as he circled around to stand behind the bound man.

Aramis tensed up, he had experience being lashed before. Gagnon stepped closer to him, Aramis felt the man stroke his back.

‘I see this is not your first time, my friend. You have faded scars all across your back…do your lovers remark upon them?’

Aramis did not respond. D’Artagnan never mentioned the scars, they were a permanent reminder of the one and only time Aramis had tried to use his relationship with his lover for gain. It was something he deeply regretted. But they had moved on from the incident, it was never spoken about. 

Gagnon had stepped away. 

‘Confess.’

‘I have never slept with a man.’

Aramis screwed his eyes shut as he heard the sound of the lash rushing through the air. He could not help the yelp of pain as the tendrils slapped across his back, curling around to his side. He breathing sped up.

‘Confess.’

‘I have never slept with a man.’

The smack of the lash across his back caused him to try to step forward, but he had nowhere to go. 

‘Confess…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aramis’ previous lashing was during ‘Insubordination.’


	3. Chapter 3

As Porthos slowed his horse to pick his way around the stall holders he noticed some Red Guardsmen looking at him and laughing. The three men took a few steps towards him. Porthos stopped his horse and looked down at the men.

‘Are you going to miss him?’ asked one of the men looking up at Porthos.

Porthos did not respond, unsure what the man was referring to.

One of the others, a lanky man with a pale complexion sniggered, ‘he’s probably going to have to find another friend to keep him entertained.’

Porthos had no idea what the men were going on about. He swung his leg over the horse’s head and dismounted, squaring up to the lanky man who took a couple of steps back. The three men formed up against the Musketeer. 

‘What do you want?’ asked Porthos taking another step forward.

‘He don’t know,’ said the third man glancing at his colleagues.

The first man laughed before saying, ‘your friend, the one who’s so good with the ladies, turns out he isn’t just a ladies man.’

Porthos did his best not to react, the realisation of what must have happened hit him hard. He needed to get back to the garrison, he needed to know exactly what had happened. 

‘We took him yesterday, we took him from his rooms, threw him into the Chatelet. He never said a word,’ sneered the lanky man, ‘he didn’t protest his innocence, didn’t demand to know why we were arresting him.’

‘Resigned to his fate,’ said the third man. 

Porthos found he was struggling to contain himself. He did not want to just walk away from the men, what he wanted to do was kill all three of them. 

‘You’re his friend, should we be arresting you as well, we know there are other Musketeers involved. You’re all disgusting. Filthy whores.’

Porthos took a quick step forward and lashed out at the lanky man, his punch knocking the man back a few paces. As he stumbled back he grabbed the third man pulling him down to the ground with him. The first man took a swing at Porthos who ducked out of the way before retaliating, leaving the man with a bloody nose. 

Before he could move forward and continue to teach the men a lesson Porthos was grabbed from behind and dragged away.

‘Calm down, Porthos,’ said Treville in his ear, ‘this is not the time.’

Treville pulled the irate man toward the garrison. Porthos glanced back and saw the three Red Guardsmen struggling to their feet, Athos, his gun drawn, was watching them as he backed away leading Porthos’ horse with him. 

As they entered the garrison yard Porthos shook free of Treville’s grasp. He turned to the two men.

‘Is it true, what they were saying?’

Treville nodded.

Porthos found he needed to sit down. He took a few steps to the bench by the table and sat heavily. 

‘What happened?’

Athos, who had handed Porthos’ horse off to a stable boy replied as he crossed to the table. 

‘They took him yesterday morning, no charges have been brought against him. The Cardinal says he is just being questioned,’ said Athos as he poured Porthos a cup of water. 

With a shaking hand, Porthos took the cup and drank before saying, ‘Damon?’

Both men nodded.

‘That bastard kept accusing Aramis from his cell, right up until the noose was around his neck. And the Cardinal, and ‘is long memory…’

Porthos looked away shaking his head.

‘I saw Aramis yesterday, he hasn’t confessed to anything and for as long as he does not there is hope that we can get him back,’ said Treville with little conviction. 

‘Holding him for no reason, surely that ain’t right?’

‘The is Richelieu we are talking about, the man has more power than the King,’ said Athos with disdain.

‘D’Artagnan?’ asked Porthos glancing around. 

‘In his room, we needed to keep him somewhere out of the way...and you need to behave as well. Aramis would not want you getting into trouble or hurt for him...it’s difficult but we have to accept that he has been arrested and we have to deal with it.’

Porthos looked up at Treville and noted the slightly defeated look on his face. Porthos understood. His best friend had been arrested and accused of a crime that he was guilty of doing but not one that could be proved. Until he confessed. Porthos knew the guards at the Chatelet could be persuasive, even Aramis, who he had seen withstand torture before, would have a limit. He would break. All men did eventually. It would just be a waiting game until that point.

MMMM

A scream broke the silence. A howl of pain that echoed through the corridors. A few of the other prisoners moaned in response. 

Aramis opened his eyes again. He had been conscious for a little while but had found that movement was not his friend. When he had first awoken he had tried to move but been left panting from the exertion. The pull on the wounds on his back had caused excruciating pain to radiate throughout his body.

When the pain had calmed to a dull roar he had managed to slowly open his eyes. When the scream had sounded he had closed his eyes again. Berger had been screaming on and off since Aramis had woken. The screams were probably what had woken him.

The poor man had nothing left to give and yet Gagnon and his band were still trying. Or were they merely inflicting pain on the man to scare Aramis?

Aramis would not put it passed Gagnon to do so. The lashing he had received had lasted for some time. The man had been calculating with his strokes, he had not hit Aramis too hard, but hard enough to leave an impression, hard enough to leave him in pain. Aramis had been grateful when the pull of unconsciousness won out. 

He had continued to maintain that he had not slept with other men, the words had become his mantra. It was the only response Gagnon got from him. It was the only response he was going to get. 

Aramis was determined not to give up d’Artagnan. It was his only task he kept telling himself. Saving his life was the only thing that Aramis had to do. His life was forfeit, he knew that. But d’Artagnan, that was a different matter. 

His lover, who had been there for him so many times. His lover who had helped him through injuries and helped him recover from assaults. His lover who he had taught everything he knew.

D’Artagnan; one of only a few people who had left him speechless. 

Aramis felt a tear spill from his eye as he realised he would never see his lover again, would never be able to give him pleasure, never see his face when they were in the throes of passion. Never enjoy a stolen kiss with him anymore. 

Aramis made a vow to himself that when he was alone he would only think of the good times he had experienced with d’Artagnan. But when he was being interrogated he would think of nothing at all, he would merely repeat his mantra. 

‘I have never slept with a man,’ Aramis said it quietly to himself.

MMMM

With most of the Musketeers either on patrol or guard duty, the garrison was quiet. A couple of men were on duty at the gate and a handful of others were on the target range honing their skills. 

D’Artagnan stood in front of Athos and Treville. He looked a little unfocused. Athos could tell the young man had not slept well. He was clearly in shock at the turn of events. They all were. 

Porthos was busying himself checking the tack on the two saddled horses that stood by the stable. 

‘You understand why we are sending you away?’ asked Treville. 

D’Artagnan nodded, Athos decided that the man appeared even younger than usual. 

‘It’s for your own safety,’ continued Treville, ‘I don’t want to lose any more men over this.’

‘Nobody suspects me,’ said d’Artagnan quietly, looking down. He had been unable to make eye contact with either of them since Porthos had brought him down from his room. 

‘And we would like it to stay that way. Out of sight, out of mind,’ said Treville.

‘How long do I have to stay away for? Will I have to stay away until they’ve killed him?’

Treville looked away, unable to respond. 

Athos stepped forward, ‘d’Artagnan, none of us like this. But we have to face the prospect that Aramis is gone. We are going to do everything we can, but…’

D’Artagnan finally looked up, ‘I know, I’m sorry, it’s just…’

‘We know,’ replied Athos.

‘Porthos and you are going to look for some robbers who have been reported to be working outside the city,’ said Treville, ‘it’s a plausible cover to get you out of the city for a few days…’

‘Do you think he will only last a few days?’

‘No, d’Artagnan, I know he will last longer, he is a strong, resilient man...but I cannot see the Cardinal allowing this to drag on for too long. I expect him to force the issue.’

D’Artagnan looked away, trying not to react.

Porthos crossed to them the reins of the two horses held loosely in his hands. He handed d’Artagnan’s to him. D’Artagnan mounted up without another word and turned the horse toward the garrison gate. 

When he was out of earshot Athos said, ‘if you have to physically keep him away from the city, do so. Aramis does not want him here.’

‘He’s worried their gonna break him, ain’t he?’

Both Treville and Athos nodded.

‘I’ll keep him safe. I’ll come back in a weeks time to see if...to see if it is safe for him to return.’

With nothing further to say Porthos mounted up and moved his horse to follow d’Artagnan who was already out of the garrison gate. 

Athos watched them go, ‘it is probably for the best that Porthos is gone as well. He would only cause trouble for himself if he stayed here.’

Treville nodded, ‘he has a purpose now, he has d’Artagnan to look after. Aramis would approve of that.’

MMMM

They waited patiently in the sitting room of Madam Marie Labelle. They had been told by her maid that she would join them shortly. 

The marksman was as discreet with his female lovers as he was with his male ones. It was known that he had mistresses, but only a few people knew who they were. Aramis loved to regale them with stories of his mistresses. Most of which they knew were exaggerated for effect. D’Artagnan would roll his eyes as Aramis told tales of sneaking away from husbands and jumping out of windows. The truth was that Madam Labelle was a widow. There was no husband to steer clear of. 

The door opened, a woman in her late thirties entered. She looked a little concerned to find the two soldiers waiting for her.

‘Monsieurs, please sit,’ she said as she settled herself opposite them. 

Treville took a breath before speaking, ‘Madam,’ he said, ‘we are here on behalf of another Musketeer.’

‘Monsieur Aramis? Has something happened to him? Is he ill?’

Treville shook his head, ‘he’s been arrested…’

Madam Labelle sat forward, a shocked expression on her face, ‘arrested? For what? The man is the kindest soldier I know. Most of them are thugs...present company excepted.’

‘Madam Labelle…’

‘Please, Monsieur, there is no need to be formal, call me Marie,’ the lady said with a smile.

‘Marie, he’s been arrested because there are rumours that he has...slept with other men.’

Athos watched Marie as she listened. He had expected her to react to the revelation that her lover might sleep with men. She did not react at all. She looked from Treville to Athos and back again.

‘A rumour, that I suspect you both know to be true?’

Both men remained silent, slightly stunned at what the woman had said.

‘Please, he is my lover, nothing more, I enjoy sleeping with him…I enjoy the sex. He’s very good, he is attentive, he sees that I get...everything I can. After my husband died I was lonely. He was there when I needed someone.’

She paused looking at them both again, she continued with a smile.

‘I know full well that I am not the only woman he sleeps with. I know he has been seeing Madam Roux for a number of years as well. There have been others...and I also know that he does not limit himself to women.’

‘Did he tell you?’ asked Athos unable to hide his surprise at her candour. 

‘I suspected and I asked him. He did not deny it. Although he did tell me a few months ago that he was only sleeping with one man.’

She looked at them both again and shook her head.

‘Why are men so surprised when a woman is open and honest about sex? Now, what can I do to help him?’

Athos leaned forward, ‘Madam, he has been arrested on suspicion of sodomy. They have no proof that he sleeps with men. And we cannot prove that he does not.’

Marie looked at Athos, ‘monsieur, perhaps I could help. I would not like to see him hurt because of narrow-mindedness. I don’t know what happens to men like him when they are arrested but I suspect it is not pleasant...If I were to testify that he sleeps with me, would that help?’

‘It would bring scandal upon you, madam,’ remarked Treville.

‘What is life without scandal, monsieur?’

MMMM

The two men walked away from the house. Neither said anything for a few minutes. Athos could not quite believe how open the woman had been. She had talked candidly about sex, she knew that Aramis slept with men and she did not care. She knew that Aramis used her for the gifts she gave him and she did not care. Aramis was someone she cared for deeply despite the fact Aramis was below her social class. Aramis was providing her with something she craved, he was seeing to her needs. She had said herself that he was an attentive lover. 

Marie was willing to ruin her reputation in order to help clear Aramis’ name. She was prepared to be the source of gossip for people in her social circle. 

Aramis meant a lot to the woman.

‘That was an eye opener,’ said Treville.

‘I know,’ replied Athos, ‘I knew he had a reputation for being a good lover, but the way she spoke of him…’

Treville nodded, ‘I only hope her testimony will help him. It may do nothing. We may ruin that woman’s reputation and he still dies.’

‘What more can we do?’ said Athos.

MMMM

D’Artagnan glanced behind them, they had left the city a few hours ago and could no longer see any signs of it. Porthos was trotting next to him in silence, lost in thought. They had tried to talk earlier, idle chatter about nothing of importance. But neither man could keep the conversation going. 

All d’Artagnan could think about was Aramis. His lover had been taken from him and locked away, alone. And here he was running away. Putting many miles between them. When Athos and Treville had told him he had to go, for his own safety he had known that Aramis had asked for him to be sent away.

When Treville had returned from the Chatelet he had refused to tell d’Artagnan what had happened. He did not know what state Aramis was in or if he had said anything. But the look on Treville face had told him all he needed to know. Aramis was already in a bad way. D’Artagnan knew that Aramis had spoken to Treville. He knew that Aramis had told Treville to send him away. 

Aramis was worried the interrogator would force a confession from him and then force him to give them names. Aramis could name anyone, Aramis did not have to name him. But Aramis might. And Aramis did not want to risk him being arrested. 

So they had sent him away, possibly forever. 

‘Do you think he’s scared?’ asked d’Artagnan.

Porthos thought for a few moments before replying, ‘no...not for himself.’

D’Artagnan looked at Porthos, it was as he had suspected. Aramis was worried about giving him up. Aramis was not thinking about himself, only of his lover.

‘He’ll be scared for you. He’ll be worrying that he will give you up. I’ve only ever seen him scared for himself once…’ Porthos looked off into the distance, ‘and that was my fault.’

‘How?’ asked d’Artagnan. 

When Porthos did not reply d’Artagnan said, ‘there’s no point trying to distract ourselves from what is happening to him...I can’t think of anything else.’

Porthos managed a sad smile before nodding.

‘It was a few years ago, I’d not long got my commission. We were already friends. I was still in lodging in the city at the time…’

MMMM

_A few years ago.... ___

__Porthos was ready a little earlier than usual. He finished buckling his pauldron to his shoulder, ensuring the prised possession was straight. He swung his weapons belt around his waist and after a check that everything was where it should be, he left his room._ _

__Usually, Aramis would call on him on his way passed, but as Porthos was ready and the day was pleasant he wandered along the road to wait for his friend. The streets were not too busy at that time in the morning. A few stall holders were starting to lay out their goods but otherwise, the street was quiet._ _

__A movement in a dim alleyway caught his eye. He could just make out the silhouette of two people. They were far enough into the alleyway that unless someone had stopped opposite, as Porthos had done, they would not be seen._ _

__As Porthos watched he realised one of the people was Aramis. He was standing close to the other person. Porthos was shocked when the other person pushed his friend up against the wall and pinned him there. Porthos walked forward quietly, he did not want the attacker to realise he was there._ _

__The two men were unaware of his presence. Porthos was a little surprised to see that the man was not attacking his friend. The men were locked in a firm embrace. Aramis had his arms around the other man and was kissing him with passion._ _

__After a few seconds, the men broke apart. The man stroked his hand down Aramis arm, catching his hand for a few seconds before walking off in the opposite direction. Aramis followed him with his gaze._ _

__When the man had disappeared around a corner Aramis turned and took a couple of steps toward the road. He stopped dead when he saw Porthos. Even in the dim light of the alleyway, Porthos could see the colour drain from his friend’s face. Aramis was deathly pale with a look of shock evident in his eyes._ _

__Aramis opened his mouth to speak but could do nothing more than stutter a few incomprehensible noises. His breathing had sped up and he was visibly shaking. The man was terrified. Porthos was convinced his friend was going to faint._ _

__He took a couple of steps forward. Aramis stumbled back, he went to turn but tripped. Porthos was close enough to grab him around the waist to prevent him crashing down. Aramis became more agitated, he started to struggle against his friend, trying to get away._ _

__‘Hey,’ said Porthos, ‘it’s alright...Aramis...I don’t care.’_ _

__Aramis struggled for a few more seconds before he stilled and allowed Porthos to turn him and push up against the wall. Porthos held him there for a few seconds until he was sure his friend would neither collapse or run off._ _

__‘I...thought you might...we...he,’ Aramis was still struggling to make a coherent sentence._ _

__‘Listen, I’m not going to turn you in. Really, I don’t care who you want to be with…’ said Porthos, pleased to see his friend starting to calm down a little._ _

__Aramis managed a nod and smiled._ _

__‘Sorry, it’s just...what I am...what I do…’_ _

__‘It’s fine, I had no idea, you’re discreet, apart from just now, and that was just really bad luck.’_ _

__Aramis looked away for a few seconds as he finally steadied his breathing._ _

__‘And just so as you know,’ said Porthos with the ghost of a smile, ‘I ain’t interested.’_ _

__Aramis managed to huff out a laugh before responding, ‘I know.’_ _

__MMMM_ _

___Now… ____ _

____When Porthos had finished relating the tale of the time he had found out about Aramis he went back to staring off into the distance._ _ _ _

____‘I can’t imagine him scared for himself,’ remarked d’Artagnan._ _ _ _

____‘No, he’s too generous, I don’t think he knows how to worry about himself. You’ve seen the number of times he pretty much falls down before he’ll tend to his own injuries. If one of us is hurt, we always come first...he’s incorrigible.’_ _ _ _

____D’Artagnan managed a small smile as he remembered all the things that Aramis had done for him, even before they were together._ _ _ _

____‘He’s not even dead yet and I miss him,’ said d’Artagnan after a few moments._ _ _ _

____‘I know,’ replied Porthos, ‘we’re mourning our friend too early...but you do realise the chances are low…’_ _ _ _

____D’Artagnan nodded, ‘we’re not going to get him back are we?’_ _ _ _

____Both men lapsed into silence again unable to think of anything but what their friend was enduring._ _ _ _

____MMMM_ _ _ _

____He had been strapped firmly into a metal chair, his wrists tied to the wide arms of the chair, his ankles tied to the legs. He could not move his arms or legs. A strap around his chest held him in place._ _ _ _

____Gagnon was sat in front of him, forcing him to unclench his left hand. A pair of pliers lay on a small table beside them. Aramis was breathing hard, he had a fair idea what Gagnon intended to do to him and he knew it was going to hurt. He knew the pain would be unbearable._ _ _ _

____When he continued to resist, one of the other men grabbed him around the head, pressing his big hand over Aramis’ nose and mouth. It did not take long for Aramis to react to the lack of air. He tried to struggle, his body's need for the life-giving stench that passed for air in the room forcing him to try to move. He involuntarily opened his fist. Gagnon pushed his hand flat on the wide arm of the chair. His fingers splayed._ _ _ _

____The hand covering his mouth and nose was removed, Aramis gasped for air. Gagnon smiled at him._ _ _ _

____‘Now, you know what you have to do?’_ _ _ _

____‘I have never slept with a man,’ replied Aramis, his response instinctive now._ _ _ _

____Gagnon picked up the pliers, his eyes remained locked on Aramis’ for a few seconds._ _ _ _

____‘Save yourself the pain. Confess. You will be hanged. It will be quick.’_ _ _ _

____‘I have never slept with a man.’_ _ _ _

____Aramis’ breath hitched as Gagnon looked down at Aramis’ hand. He opened the pliers and pushed them against the nail of Aramis’ smallest finger. Aramis shut his eyes as Gagnon closed the plies and began to pull the nail._ _ _ _

____Aramis cried out in pain, the reaction spontaneous. He screamed as the pain intensified. He gasped for air between screams. Such a simple method of torture had elicited a bigger reaction than the lashing he had received the previous day. Aramis pushed himself back in the chair, hoping the pain in his back would block out the pain he was feeling in his hand. It did not._ _ _ _

____Gagnon waited until Aramis had brought his breathing under some control, until he could open his eyes again._ _ _ _

____‘You have nine more nails on your hands, and we also can take the ones on your feet. Imagine that pain nineteen more times? Can you imagine that?’_ _ _ _

____‘I have never slept with a man.’_ _ _ _

____Gagnon shook his head and looked back down at Aramis’ hand, ‘you are a most entertaining prisoner, monsieur.’_ _ _ _

____Aramis readied himself for further pain. He tried to shut down. He wished he could pass out. He wished he could just die. He knew how he could stop the pain. But he could not do that._ _ _ _

____‘I have never slept with a man,’ he said quietly, before screaming as a second nail was pulled from his hand._ _ _ _


	4. Chapter 4

‘Madam Roux, may we speak in private?’ asked Treville.

The lady, in her late forties, led them to a small sitting room. She was elegant, young for her age. She indicated for Treville and Athos to sit.

‘What can I do for two of the King’s Musketeers?’ she asked with a smile.

Treville paused for a moment, unsure how to start. Athos realised what his problem was, unlike Madam Labelle, Madam Roux was married. And her husband was a judge. A man who could potentially decide Aramis’ fate. Athos had been unsure if visiting Madam Roux was a good idea. But Treville had pointed out they had little to lose. They were running out of options. 

‘We are here because we think you might be able to help us…’

They looked around as the door to the small room opened. A man entered, he was older than Madam Roux by at least a decade. He looked at the two Musketeers who had both stood as he entered. 

‘Is this about Aramis?’ he asked.

Athos and Treville stared at him. 

‘What about Aramis, my love?’ asked Madam Roux looking at the man with concern.

‘Richelieu has had him arrested for sodomy…’

The man glanced at Treville and Athos for a moment before continuing.

‘Forgive me, monsieurs, I know that your comrade sleeps with my wife. You see Monsieurs, I was injured a few years ago. I can no longer please my wife in the way a husband should,’ said Monsieur Roux, ‘when that young man caught her eye she was determined she would have him for her lover.’

Athos glanced at Treville who appeared to be having as much difficulty responding as he did. 

‘Gentlemen, we are very open about the affair. I’ve met Aramis on a few occasions, he is discreet about his liaisons with my wife. As far as I am aware very few people even know about it.’

Roux had crossed the room and was stood behind the chair his wife was perched on. Madam Roux looked shocked.

‘Why would he be arrested? Surely there is no proof, he’s so careful?’ she turned to Treville, ‘tell me that you have sent his young man away...I forget his name…’

‘D’Artagnan,’ said Athos slowly, unable to hide his surprise, ‘yes we have…’

‘Good, I would hate to think what would...my poor Aramis. Darling,’ Madam Roux looked up to her husband, ‘can’t you do something?’

‘I cannot, my dear, not without proof that he is innocent.’

Madam Roux had tears in her eyes, unlike Madam Labelle, it seemed to Athos that she did know the kind of treatment their friend would be receiving. She sniffed a few times before speaking again.

‘If I were to admit to our affair, would that help?’

‘He would still die, but for adultery,’ replied her husband, ‘but the death would be swift and he would not be interrogated.’

‘It is an option we would not like to explore,’ said Treville, ‘unless it becomes necessary.’

‘I understand,’ Roux said with a frown, ‘I will do what I can for him, but I doubt it will be much. You know that Monsieur Berger is due to die in four days time. If Aramis has not been broken by then and confesses, I doubt the Cardinal will want to prolong the incident much beyond that. But I am limited. I have to be seen to be upholding the law.’

Treville sighed, ‘any help you give will be appreciated.’

Roux looked away for a few seconds, ‘this is awful, I feel awful for not being able to just put a stop to it. But the Cardinal has had him taken, he has more power than he should have.’

‘Could a group of you dictate what he can and cannot do?’ asked Athos.

Roux shook his head, ‘the trouble is, most of the other judges will be of the same opinion as the Cardinal. They will take the Bible’s teaching literally. A man should not lie with another man. It is simple for them. They do not see beyond the written word. They do not consider that the Bible is from a different time.’

Madam Roux had been quiet for a while, she looked up at her husband, ‘if he has to die, can you not ensure it is a swift death? I’ve heard what they do to the poor men who are broken on the wheel, it is...horrible, even for a most heinous crime it is barbaric. How can it be right? Causing suffering in the name of justice. Doesn’t it just make us as bad as the criminal?’

Roux smiled at his wife, ‘yes, my dear, that is something I can have an influence on. If it comes to it I will do my best to ensure he is treated with compassion.’

Treville rose from the chair, ‘monsieur, despite the circumstances, it has been a pleasure to meet someone who is so open-minded and who clearly wishes they could do more to prevent the horror that my man is going through.’

Athos, who had stood with Treville, nodded his agreement to the statement. 

MMMM

Aramis had been dragged back to his cell and dumped on the floor. He managed to pull his injured hand toward him and cradled it in his right. He looked at the damaged fingers. Gagnon had not stopped at ripping three fingernails from him. The man had then broken each of the three fingers in turn. He had been forced to watch as he did so. The breaks were not serious, and they would heal. Aramis wondered if he would still be alive to see the bones healed. He doubted it. 

One of the guards had crouched in front of him and held up a cup of water. He offered it to Aramis, holding it just out of reach. Aramis leaned forward slightly, stretching out his right hand. The guard moved the cup further away. When Aramis realised the man was merely teasing him he slumped back against the wall. He was not going to play their game.

‘Not thirsty then?’ asked the guard as he tipped the cup allowing the liquid to fall and hit the ground in front of Aramis who watched it puddle in front of him. 

Aramis stared at the guard.

The scarred man was looking on from outside the cell, ‘perhaps he’d like a fuck? We could bend him over a table and see to his needs...Missing a hard cock are you?’

The man grabbed at his own crotch as he spoke. The other men jeered. 

‘Did you used to sell yourself? Before you become a soldier, was you a whore?’ asked one of the others. 

Aramis did not respond he looked at the floor, at the puddle of water which was gradually seeping away.

‘We could line up and fuck you one at a time, a cup of water and some bread for each fuck. I think that would be a fair price...oh hang on,’ said the man who had tipped the water away, ‘we ain’t fucking heathens.’

The man spat at Aramis, the spittle hitting him across the face. Aramis did not move, did not try to wipe it off his face. He just sat and let them continue to verbally abuse him and threaten to rape him.

He could not fight back. He had no fight left in him. He had only been there for three days. He already felt broken. Had they succeeded already, would he confess and give up his lover when they next dragged him out of his cell?

MMMM

The meeting with the Cardinal had not gone well. The two woman who had come to speak on Aramis’ behalf had conducted themselves well but the Cardinal had been unconvinced. 

Athos had been forced to lead Treville away when the Cardinal had sneered at them both and intimated that Aramis was already nearing breaking point. Athos did not want his Captain to do something he would later regret, Athos did not want to deal with the situation on his own. 

Madam Labelle had, despite the chance of a scandal, spoken eloquently. She had clearly said, in the presence of several men of influence that she was sleeping with the accused. That she did not think Aramis capable of sodomy, that he was only interested in women. The Cardinal had waved her away. She left the room, her head held high, but her reputation no doubt ruined. Athos did not think that she cared. 

Madam Poulin, the landlady that Aramis often talked about as if she were a nosy nuisance and a woman to be avoided, waged war on Richelieu. The venom with which she spoke caused the man to lean back in his chair away from her. She made her case, telling the men that she had never seen Aramis acting inappropriately. She told the Cardinal in no uncertain terms that the behaviour of his Red Guard when they had taken her lodger was not good. They had damaged her property and she was not amused.

When she had finished she had turned and stomped off, the noise from her shoes reverberating around the room even after she had left. 

As Athos had pushed the riled up Treville from the room they had found Madam Labelle crouched in front of Madam Poulin who was breathing fast and looked quite faint, she was dabbing a handkerchief to her eyes. A young Red Guardsman was hovering nearby a cup of water in his hand. Treville glowered at the young man. 

‘What do you want?’ he asked.

The young man looked a little taken aback.

‘Monsieur,’ said Madam Labelle, looking up at Treville, ‘this young man was concerned when Claire became faint. He found her a chair and then kindly got her some water.’

The young guard still looked a little concerned, ‘please, Captain,’ he said in a quiet voice, ‘we don’t all approve of the way this has been handled...I wasn’t there when they took Monsieur Aramis.’

‘It is alright,’ said Athos calmly. 

The young man looked a little placated. 

‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t be more help,’ said Madam Labelle, ‘if there is anything else that I can do...I have money, anything at all.’

Athos nodded his thanks, ‘I think we are running out of options madam.’

‘It’s just so unfair,’ said Madam Poulin who had calmed down a little, ‘the poor man should be allowed to be himself, without persecution.’

Athos glared at the woman before glancing at the Red Guard.

‘It’s...I won’t repeat anything...I...I understand what...’ the man stuttered to a stop unsure what to say.

Madam Labelle rose from her crouched position to stand next to the young man, ‘I think what he is trying to say, is that he does not approve of all this because he is the same way inclined...it would not be in his best interest to say anything.’

The man had reddened slightly, but nodded.

‘In which case you had better leave us, you probably do not want to be seen associating with us,’ said Athos.

The young man quickly retreated. 

Madam Poulin looked a little shocked at what had happened, she held her handkerchief to her face.

‘I’ll take her home,’ said Madam Labelle.

‘Thank you,’ replied Athos as he helped Madam Poulin to stand. 

He watched the two women walk off, Madam Labelle had her arm around the older woman’s waist. They were talking quietly to each other. 

‘Is there anything else we can try?’ asked Athos as he turned back to Treville. 

‘Divine intervention is what we need, and I do not think that will happen,’ replied Treville sadly.

MMMM

‘I’ll head back to Paris in the morning,’ said Porthos as they entered the tavern, ‘you stay here, so that I know where to come back to.’

D’Artagnan nodded. They had been travelling randomly for a few days, stopping each night at a different tavern. Anyone who asked was told they were seeking out a group of robbers who had been seen in the area. Neither man had spoken much. Porthos had shared a few anecdotes of his time in the Musketeers before d’Artagnan had joined them. Most of the stories d’Artagnan knew, but he did not mind hearing them again. It was somehow reassuring to hear positive things about Aramis. 

While Porthos spoke to the landlord and secured them a room for the next two nights d’Artagnan wandered across the room to sit at a table. He lowered himself into the bench seat and stared at the fire for a few moments. A movement to his left made him look up. 

‘Marc!’

‘I thought it was you,’ said Bardet as he sat opposite d’Artagnan.

‘How...why are you here? We thought you would leave the area completely. You may not be safe this close to Paris,’ said d’Artagnan glancing around. 

The room was empty apart from them and an old man with a shaggy dog sat huddled by the fire.

‘I just found myself unable to leave the area...I can’t stop thinking about poor Simon. And what he’s going through. Do you know if they’ve…’

D’Artagnan shook his head, ‘we left Paris a few days ago, Porthos is going back tomorrow to see if it’s safe for me to...go back…’

Bardet stared at him, his eyes wide, as he realised what d’Artagnan was saying.

‘Aramis?’

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘they took him the same day that Porthos came to visit you.’

Porthos walked over to the table, he put a bottle of wine and three cups on the table.

‘I saw you talking, thought you’d better eat with us,’ he said, ‘has he told you?’

Bardet nodded, ‘did Simon…’

D’Artagnan shook his head. They spent a few minutes explaining to Bardet what had happened. Bardet looked down at his cup of wine.

‘I can’t believe they’ve had him arrested on the say-so of a man who had been convicted of stealing…’

‘We know. It’s the Cardinal trying to get one up on Treville.’

‘But why does he have to do it with another man’s life,’ said Porthos sadly.

Bardet looked off into the distance. D’Artagnan wondered what the man was thinking.

MMMM

The following morning Porthos left early, promising to return as soon as he could with news, regardless of what it was. 

D’Artagnan watched him go, wondering what the news would be. He knew that either way it would not be good. Aramis would either already be dead or still be being kept alive to torture. Was Porthos going to return saying that Aramis had broken and given him up? Was Porthos going to return and give him a bag of money, much as he had done with Bardet a few days before?

Bardet appeared beside him watching the disappearing horseman.

‘You know Aramis was the first man I slept with who treated me as an equal,’ said Bardet as they turned to walk back toward the tavern. 

They sat on a bench outside, away from anyone who might listen to them.

‘I’d slept with a few men before him, but they were always a little rough with me, I thought that was what I had to expect. That as an inexperienced man I would have to put up with it…’

D’Artagnan did not interrupt him, it was clear Bardet wanted to talk.

‘When he suggested we spend the night together I thought it would be the same as with the other men. It was clear Aramis knew what he was doing...but he was somehow gentle and wanted me to enjoy the encounter. When we got to the point of actually having sex I just assumed he would fuck me, but he seemed surprised at that. He actually asked me what I wanted to do.’

Bardet smiled slightly at the memory.

‘It was the first time I had sex where I took the lead...he told me what to do...I was so nervous...but he was so good.’

D’Artagnan had initially found it odd listening to another man talking about sleeping with his lover but as Bardet continued he found himself smiling. Remembering the first few times they had slept together. 

‘He was good wasn’t he, he always seemed to know what I wanted, always wanted me to feel good…’

D’Artagnan stopped.

‘Why am I talking about him as if he is already dead? I don’t know that he is dead yet…’

‘I know what you mean…’

‘Sorry, you have Simon to think about,’ d’Artagnan said quietly.

‘Simon and I were close, he was still seeing a few other people but I had grown very fond of him...I’m not sure I would want anyone else…’

They sat talking and watching as the sun climbed across the sky. They spoke about Aramis, and all the things he had done for them and other people. The more they talked the more d’Artagnan realised that Aramis was a truly good man. He thought nothing of dropping a coin into the hand of a beggar. He had ensured the little old lady got back to her house safely the day before he was arrested. Even from the Chatelet, he had wanted to make sure that his lover was safe.

‘It seems such a waste,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘that a man like him should be treated in such a way.’

The men sat watching the birds flying overhead. D’Artagnan wondered what the future held in store for him. 

MMMM

D’Artagnan’s hand was resting on his arm, the warmth welcome. Aramis drifted between that moment of sleep and wakefulness, where nothing mattered. He could feel his lover lying beside him. He could not remember what they had done the night before. But it did not matter. Perhaps they had just laid together, enjoying the closeness. Sometimes after a gruelling day of soldiering, that was all they wanted to do.

Or perhaps they had stripped each other slowly in between touches and kisses. One of them would have pushed the other onto the bed, their thoughts in tune, there was not often the need for words. Or one of them had firmly taken charge and the other allowed him to dictate what happened. Sometimes giving up the power was as much fun as maintaining it. The unexpected, not knowing what the other was going to do causing a thrill of uncertainty. 

Aramis wondered why he could not remember what they had done the night before. He wondered why the hand on his arm was growing hotter. The heat was too much. It was burning. A scream. He realised it was him who was screaming. Screaming in pain. Pain because he was being burned. Heat radiated out from his upper arm. He tried to pull away but could not. 

He had been tied to the same chair, the straps across him pinning him back. He struggled, but could not move. He was aware of the poker being removed from his arm, it had only rested there for a few seconds, but it was enough. The pain continued to pulse through him, his screams subsided. He gasped for air, his head hanging limply as he did so. 

The last few days came back to him as the pain abated slightly. The beatings he had received and the more considered pain that had been inflicted. Gagnon had continued to ask him the questions, Aramis had continued with his mantra. Although he was saying the words with less conviction. Gagnon had sliced him with a sharp blade across his chest several times, leaving him with bleeding wounds. If they did not kill him in the next few days the wounds would become infected and he would probably die from the fever that followed. He had been lashed a second time, whilst chained uncomfortably in the centre of the room, manacles on his wrists holding him up and further chains on his ankles pulling him down. The position itself had caused him to come near to passing out, the lashes swung at him had finished the job. 

He could not walk unaided, the men had to drag him to and from his cell. They had given him water a few times. He had not been fed. He had watched as bread was given out to the other prisoners, but he had cruelly been left out. 

He managed to raise his head slightly, he watched as Gagnon pulled the poker from the fire, the white-hot metal shining in the dim room. 

Gagnon advanced on him.

‘I have never slept with a man.’

Aramis voice was not much more than a whisper. The denial made no difference, the poker was going to be pressed against his flesh again regardless. 

MMMM

As d’Artagnan had spoken with an obvious love for Aramis, Bardet had wondered what would happen to the young man. Even if Aramis managed to last out until Richelieu grew tired and let the executioner take him, d’Artagnan would not recover. Bardet knew what d’Artagnan was going through. He was going through the same thing. Losing Simon was wrenching him apart. He knew that Simon had not really thought about him in quite the same way but that did not matter to Bardet. He was going to lose the one man he had come close to loving. Simon had caught his eye across a tavern one evening and he had not been with anyone else since that night. 

But d’Artagnan, he was going to lose Aramis, a kind and attentive man who, like Simon, did not deserve the treatment he was receiving. But unlike Simon, Aramis had not yet been convicted, that he knew. If Aramis had not confessed there was a chance, a slim chance that he could be saved. And d’Artagnan would not lose the man he loved in such a cruel and unnecessary manner. 

Bardet knew that his lover was beyond help, he hated that he could do nothing for Simon. But he might be able to do something for Aramis. For the man who had helped him years before, treated him as an equal, showed him what a relationship between two people should be like. They had only been together twice, but that had been enough for Aramis to have had an impact on Bardet. And now he had the chance to do something in return. 

‘Aramis is too good a man to die like that,’ said Bardet rising from the bench.

‘I know,’ said d’Artagnan sadly, ‘but there’s nothing to be done, is there. It’s possible Treville will have done something...this waiting is horrible…what are you doing?’

‘I’m going to sort this out,’ said Bardet.

He was stood in front of d’Artagnan checking his weapons and straightening his doublet. D’Artagnan stood up.

‘Aramis wouldn’t want you to go back there, you’re wanted, they’d arrest you...Aramis wouldn’t want…’

Bardet grabbed the now unconscious man before he hit the floor. He knew he had no choice but to knock d’Artagnan out. The man would not have allowed him to go otherwise. He checked that d’Artagnan was breathing, as he lay him down on the floor. He would be found by the landlord of the tavern in a few minutes, Bardet was sure. 

With a last look at his friend Bardet turned and walked to the stable to retrieve his horse.

As he rode towards Paris he knew that Aramis would not want him to do what he was going to try, and that was all the more reason he should try anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

He did not even bother to fight them now, initially, he had resisted them, he had made it difficult for them to move him. He had tried to stop them tying him down or chaining him up. As he had become weaker his ability to fight had reduced to the point where he knew, and they knew, that he simply could not fight them. Two men hooked their arms under his and pulled him up. He tried to walk, an instinctive reaction, but he could not support himself anymore. 

They dragged him along the corridor. As they passed the torture cell he wondered where they were going. The routine of being taken into the forbidding room had not been broken since his arrival. He did not know how long he had been there. He had lost all concept of time. Sometimes it felt like hours between his session with Gagnon, sometimes it felt like minutes. Sometimes he was returned to his cell unconscious waking on the cold floor. 

A breeze hit him, fresh air. He tried to take a deep breath, but the injuries he had sustained during his interrogation made it difficult. He had given up cataloguing his injuries, they were too numerous. He had already seen some of his bruises fade away, only to be replaced by fresh ones. With no access to water or a means to wash the wounds he was sure some were infected. He could not tell if he was feverish, but he did know he was cold. They had not given him a blanket or replaced his shirt since the first day when he was lashed. He was lucky that it was July, a colder month would have seen him succumb to the cold. Or, perhaps, he was unlucky that it was July. Succumbing to the cold seemed favourable. Despite the warmth outside, his cell was dank and chilly but not chilly enough to kill him.

The fresh air he so wished he could breathe in properly was cool. He guessed it was early morning, he had been forced to screw his eyes shut against the light. He could not look up to see where the sun was in the sky. He had been kept in the dim light of the prison for so long the daylight hurt his eyes. It took him a while to open his eyes again. He started to shiver almost immediately.

When he did open his eyes he found that he had been brought out to the enclosed yard of the Chatelet and stood in front of a slightly raised platform. His ability to be shocked still remained, when he saw the breaking wheel in front of him he gasped. 

This was the day he was to die. He knew it would be inevitable but he had thought he would have some notice. He thought they would tell him, torment him about it beforehand. He could feel his heartbeat thumping faster. His breathing had quickened. He was in pain all the time, but he knew that having his bones broken and crushed would be worse. He wondered if, after his bones were broken, they would give him the killing blows to end his suffering? Or would he be left to die slowly? Would he be left out in the open where the birds might peck at his skin? Would he feel it as they fed on him?

The men holding him let him go, unable to stand he sank to the ground. He was left leaning against one of the guards legs. The man did not move. Aramis could not adjust his position, he did not think he could do anything for himself anymore. The last time a cup of water had been left in his cell he had not been able to lift it. The broken fingers of his left hand and the burns to his right arm leaving him in too much pain and too weak to even contemplate such an action. 

He became aware of movement from the prison. A small group of people were approaching. Gagnon was leading the group, as they neared he peeled off and walked over to him, he stopped a few yards away and turned to watch the unfolding spectacle. Aramis realised the wheel was not for him. It was for Berger, who was being carried up the three steps to the platform.

The limp, unresponsive man was stripped of his remaining clothes and laid across the breaking cross, he was tied into place, his arms and legs stretched out in the shape of an ‘X’. Aramis wondered if the man needed to be tied down, he looked too weak. His lips were moving, in much the same way as when he had seen him in his cell on his first day in the Chatelet. Berger was speaking, but what he was saying was unknown.

Aramis did not want to watch but found that he could not look away. He was seeing what his own future held.

MMMM

The summons to the Chatelet filled both of them with dread. As far as they were aware no death warrant had been signed for Aramis. Perhaps it had been done late the previous night. 

They approached the gate of the prison, it was closed. The guard on duty looked up at them for a few moments before pushing the double door open to allow them access. As they entered the large yard they saw the breaking wheel awaiting its victim. 

Athos had mixed emotions about what he was about to witness. He had seen executions before, but he had never witnessed a friend’s. He had known Aramis for years, he was one of his best friends. He was not sure he wanted to watch his friend die, particularly in such an horrific manner. But he did want to be there, to offer what little support and camaraderie he could. He knew that if their positions were reversed Aramis would be there for him. 

Treville had already dismounted and walked toward the platform, he was talking to the Cardinal and Monsieur Roux. As Athos approached he caught the end of their conversation.

‘Why have we been brought here if it’s not Aramis being killed?’

‘I thought you might like the chance to see what would happen to your man, perhaps you could have a word with him and tell him to confess…’ the Cardinal sneered, ‘if he confesses I will ensure he is given a swift death instead of...this.’

The Cardinal waved his hand at the platform.

Athos glanced at Roux who had a stern expression. It was clear the man was trying to remain impartial, at least outwardly. After their conversation they knew the man was not as unforgiving as his public persona would have people think. 

Another horse entering the yard made Athos turn. Porthos had stopped by the other horses and dismounted, he walked across to the others, barely able to contain his emotion. Athos could see he was glaring at the Cardinal. Athos stepped forward, intercepting him before he could get any closer. The other men had not noticed the move. 

‘It’s not for Aramis...I think it’s for Berger,’ said Athos quietly.

‘I went to the garrison, they said you had been summoned here, I thought…’

‘So did we,’ replied Athos.

They looked back toward the prison as the door was pushed open. Athos had to stop Porthos moving forward again as they saw Aramis being brought out. 

Their friend was dressed only in his breeches. He had his eyes screwed shut against the light, his head bowed. The two men with him were virtually carrying him, he was making no attempt to walk on his own. It did not look like he could walk on his own. 

His body was covered in bruising and injuries. There were cuts across his chest and what looked like whip marks across his back. Athos guessed his friend had endured more than one session under the lash. There were what looked like burn marks on his arms. His wrists and ankles were bruised and bleeding from either ropes or manacles, or both. 

From the looks of him Aramis no longer needed to be restrained, his friend could not support his own weight. The two men holding him released him. Aramis simply crumpled to the floor, he remained where he had landed, leaning against the legs of one of the men. The man did not move away, Athos suspected they wanted Aramis to remain partially upright so that he could watch the proceedings. Watching Berger’s execution was part of the torture their friend was enduring. 

‘How is he even conscious,’ murmured Porthos, ‘look at his hand.’

Aramis’ left hand was laid on his lap, three of the fingers were bloody and swollen. The fingers had been broken and Athos guessed the blood was an indication that the nails had been ripped off. The pain would have been unbearable. Athos felt sick at the thought of what his friend had gone through. 

Aramis was staring at the platform, Athos wondered if he thought he was about to die, if he knew the breaking wheel was not for him, at least not yet.

The door to the Chatelet opened a second time. Simon Berger was brought out, barely conscious the man was carried by two guards. As he was stripped and prepared for his final punishment it became apparent the man was incoherent. If he had lost his mind he might not be aware of what was happening to him, perhaps he would not feel the pain as his limbs were broken. Athos hoped that was the case. 

The injuries across his body were similar to Aramis’. The man had suffered, he had endured more than any man should and now his suffering was to be ended, but not before he was hurt further.

The executioner advanced, his iron bar held loosely in his hand. He looked toward Richelieu who nodded that he was to continue. Berger was speaking quietly but none of them could hear what he was saying. He was staring skywards, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. The iron bar was raised and brought down across Berger’s left forearm. The sound of the breaking bones drowned out by the scream emitted from the restrained man. The howl of pain was haunting to those watching. Berger had seemed so placid and almost absent when he had been brought out. Now he pulled at his restraints, his cries of pain continuing. The executioner stood back. Athos realised he was waiting for Berger to stop his anguished cries. Waiting for the man to calm down before inflicting the next blow.

Athos glanced across to Aramis who was watching the proceedings, but did not seem to have reacted. After he had collapsed to the ground Aramis had managed to lift his head to watch the execution. He stared ahead. Athos could not tell how much of what was happening Aramis was really aware of. He looked vacant, unfocused. He had a similar look to Berger when he had first been brought out. If Aramis had not yet been broken, he probably was not far off. Perhaps seeing Berger executed would be the thing that pushed him to make the confession the Cardinal wanted. 

Berger screamed again as the executioner smashed the iron bar across his right lower leg. He weakly pulled at his restraints. As his screams died down again the executioner swung the iron bar a third time. This time over the thigh bone of his right leg. 

Athos was aware of Porthos shifting beside him.

‘You do not have to watch this, the Cardinal did not invite you, only Treville and myself.’

Porthos looked across at him before moving his gaze to the slumped form of his friend.

‘I want to be here...for him.’

‘I do not think he is aware of us, he has not looked over here.’

‘I know, but I’m staying.’

Treville, his expression one of fury had turned to Richelieu.

‘Surely the man has suffered enough?’

Richelieu sneered, ‘he is a sinner and must be punished.’

Treville shook his head, ‘you are despicable, your Eminence.’

Richelieu did not react, he continued to watch as Berger’s bones were broken one by one. 

Berger’s screams were not as loud or prolonged now. As further bones were broken his feeble attempts to pull at his bonds stopped. He stopped reacting to the iron bars deployment. It became apparent to all the men present that Simon Berger had died. The executioner continued to break the bones regardless. 

Gagnon took a few steps toward his prisoner and crouched down next to him. Athos could just about make out what the man said to his friend. 

‘This will be you, very soon. I know you are close to breaking, another couple of sessions with me should do it, and then you will be stretched out like him and your bones will be broken one at a time...then you will be left to die. If you do not die as he has done, during the breaking, there will be no killing blow for you. I will see to it that you are left to linger there. It might take you hours to die.’

Aramis managed to turn his head to look at Gagnon, he spoke quietly.

‘I have never slept with a man.’

The simple line that Aramis spoke barely drew a reaction from Gagnon. Athos suspected his friend had said the line before. Probably many times. Perhaps the words were the only ones he had spoken since he had been taken.

‘He’s still protecting d’Artagnan,’ whispered Porthos, ‘he’s not been broken...how much more can they put him through?’

Athos could see tears in Porthos’ eyes, he knew the horror of what they had just witnessed was reflected in his own face. 

Athos looked back at Aramis. The persecuted man had gone back to staring ahead, looking at the body of Simon Berger.

MMMM

Porthos watched as Berger was put to death, but all he could see was Aramis in the same position. His best friend tied down, having his bones systematically broken one by one. He had seen his friend in pain before and he hated it. His friend would try not to react, he would try to hide the hurt that the punishment would cause him. But he would react, as Berger had done. His friend would be unable to hide that pain. And Porthos could not bear the thought of it. 

But he would return. He would be there for his friend. Somehow, he would be with Aramis until the end, until the farce had finished; with his friend's death. 

Poor d’Artagnan would be devastated that Aramis had held out for him. That the man had endured no doubt countless sessions with Gagnon. D’Artagnan would blame himself for what Aramis had gone through. The lad would not be the same again. What was happening to Aramis would most likely destroy d’Artagnan as well. 

Porthos wondered how much more his friend could take. He looked broken, he almost did not look like he was even there. His ashen features looked sunken. The spark that was Aramis had dimmed, had the days of denying who he was finally caught up with him. Was his secret going to be his downfall? All the years that Porthos had known about Aramis he had never seen the man come close to being found out. There had been the issue with Damon, but they had dealt with that swiftly.

Although, thought Porthos, perhaps not swiftly enough. Even in death, the man had managed to cause his friend suffering. In death, he had managed to take Aramis down. Porthos would have liked to have killed Damon for what he had done to Aramis but the others would not allow it. Now he wished he had not listened.

Aramis was going to die because Porthos had done what the others had wanted. But he did not blame them. None of them could have foreseen this turn of events. 

MMMM

Treville wanted to push the men away from Aramis, he wanted to wrap his cloak around the shivering man and take him away. Treville would cheerfully have shot Richelieu and Gagnon. He wanted to kill every last man who had been involved in the witch hunt that had led to Aramis being in the state he now was. Aramis had watched the execution with unfocused eyes. Treville wondered how much he was aware of his surroundings. He certainly seemed unaware of them watching him. 

As the execution had progressed Treville had looked at the other men surrounding the gallows. Richelieu seemed to be enjoying the pain that was being inflicted on another man. The few Red Guardsman dotted about the courtyard were either watching closely or with disinterest. Treville spotted the young guardsman who had helped Madam Poulin after their pitiful attempt to reason with Richelieu a few days before. The young man was blinking frequently, he was trying not to cry. None of the other guards had noticed his distress, which Treville thought, was a good thing. 

The judge, Monsieur Roux, had watched with barely disguised anger, he was taking long calculated breathes. Treville realised the man, who was secretly sympathetic towards Berger, was having a tough time remaining impartial. 

Athos was maintaining a neutral expression, but only just. He was frequently glancing across to Aramis. Athos had his hands clenched tightly, Treville wondered if his swordsman was even aware how tensely he was standing. 

Porthos was the most distressed of them, he had tears in his eyes, Treville saw him rub them away a few times leaving his eyes red. Treville guessed he was imagining his best friend going through the ordeal before them. 

When the executioner had finished his task he had stood back and looked toward Richelieu again. After a few seconds, Richelieu had nodded. The executioner and his assistant had walked away, as if nothing had happened. The body of Berger left in situ. 

As the executioner had left Treville saw Gagnon approach Aramis and taunt the man. Aramis had only spoken one quiet sentence. He had denied the accusation against him. 

Gagnon had indicated for his men to take Aramis away. They had grabbed the limp man and dragged him out of the courtyard, back into the darkness of the Chatelet. The door had closed behind them.

Richelieu turned to Roux, ‘I think it is time for us to discuss the next execution.’

Richelieu looked toward the door Aramis had been taken through. 

‘He has not confessed, and as far as I’m aware,’ said Treville with venom, ‘you do not have any proof that he is guilty.’

‘Would you like the interrogation to continue? You saw the man, he’s half dead already.’

Treville was aware of Athos pushing Porthos back a few yards. His men remained at a distance. Treville suspected Athos needed to keep himself away as much as Porthos needed to be kept away. 

Roux spoke with as calm a voice as he could muster, ‘I agree, that he has suffered a lot, but without a confession or proof of his guilt I am reluctant to allow his execution.’

‘I could overrule you.’

‘You could try, your Eminence, but I am not sure how many of the other judges would approve of such behaviour. You need us on your side. If you are seen to overrule us you will lose what little popularity you have.’

The Cardinal looked a little taken aback by Roux’s words, but recovered quickly. 

‘Very well, the interrogation can continue.’

Treville was finding it increasingly difficult to restrain his anger. He was about to speak when a shout from one of the Red Guard drew their attention. 

The gate had been pushed open and a man had entered the courtyard. The man looked around for a moment, his gaze settling on the gallows. He walked with purpose up to the raised platform. There he paused, looking at the body. 

Looking at the body of his lover. 

Bardet took a few deep breaths. He stepped forward, climbing onto the platform. Several of the Red Guard moved forward. As one, Athos and Porthos drew their swords and moved across to stand in front of the platform. The look on their faces enough to keep the Red Guard at bay. The rest of the men present watched silently. 

Bardet had knelt beside the body of Berger. It was clear Bardet did not know the man was dead, he laid his hand gently on the man’s chest. He remained where he was for several seconds. When he was certain Berger was dead, he leaned forward and after brushing the hair from the dead man’s face kissed him on the forehead, a chaste, respectful kiss. As he leaned back he gently stroked his hand across the man’s face, closing his eyes. 

After a few more seconds he rose and stepped off the platform. After one last, long look at his lover, Bardet turned toward the other men. He undid his weapon belt and let it fall to the floor, he held his hands out to the sides to show his submission.

He walked across to them. He stopped in front of the Cardinal. When he spoke he spoke with an even, neutral, tone. He betrayed no emotion. There was no tremor in his voice. He was a man who knew exactly what he was there to do. And he intended to do it. 

‘I believe I am a wanted man your Eminence. I am here to turn myself in.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a bit of research for the execution using the wheel, this proved a valuable piece… www. geriwalton. com/being-broken-on-the-wheel-in-the-18th-century (you will need to take out the spaces, but not the dashes) - I know the account is a century later than the Musketeers is set, but I doubt the method had changed much. 
> 
> I'm working an early shift tomorrow so the next chapter won't appear until a bit after 1700 UK time. Sorry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping you don't all think I took the easy option in this chapter. Quite a lot of you are expecting something way more clever than what I've written! I hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> P.S. I had a bad day yesterday, fan fiction wise (on another site), due to a comment I received, so please be gentle with me. (I clearly have no other problems in my life if I let a silly comment upset me!).

After watching Berger killed Aramis could not imagine what else they could do to him that could be worse. He had seen what was in store for him. He was close enough to hear the bones breaking once Berger had stopped screaming. Once he had died. Through his hazy vision, Aramis had seen the moment Berger had given up his fight for life. Despite obviously being in pain and perhaps not completely aware mentally Berger had still fought to stay alive. But as the bones continued to be broken he had visibly wilted, even tied down Aramis could see the man relax and fade away. His screams, which were no more than whimpers of pain had stopped and he was no more. 

Aramis knew what was to come, there was nothing more that Gagnon could do to him. Perhaps by showing him how he would die, Gagnon had taken away the fear of it. Aramis was still frightened, he knew he would be caused tremendous pain but there would be an end to it. All he had to do was wait. And he had waited this long, however long that was. 

As he was returned, not to his cell but to the torture room, he was vaguely aware that he was shivering. The cool morning had left him cold. A rope was wrapped around his wrists and he was pulled up into the air. The pressure on his abused ribs preventing him from taken a proper breath. Another lashing, he thought. He watched Gagnon approach him with the knife that had already been used on him several times. Not a lashing then, something else.

Gagnon sneered at him before using the knife to cut off his filthy breeches and underclothes, leaving him naked suspended from the ceiling of the room. As Gagnon had cut the clothes off him Aramis had flinched away a little, the first reaction for a long time to his treatment. The action had caused Gagnon to slip and slice his hip. Aramis had whimpered in pain, he could not take in enough air to scream in his current position. 

‘Can’t say as I see what the men like about you...they certainly won’t like you anymore,’ said Gagnon as he looked Aramis up and down. 

Aramis could not support his own weight, he hung limply from the rope. Gagnon moved to the side of him and took a step back. The pain of the kick to his left knee left him gasping for air. The familiar greyness invaded his vision. Passing out had become a very welcome thing to Aramis. He embraced it, encouraged it, wanted it. As Gagnon kicked again, this time to the ankle on the same leg, Aramis allowed his head to drop. He did not pass out, he was close, but the welcome call of the darkness did not come. 

He was aware of the rope being undone, he collapsed to the floor. As he lay on the cold stone floor taking short, panted breathes he could hear a muttered conversation behind him. Gagnon was talking to one of the guards. Gagnon sounded annoyed. Aramis heard the door to the cell open then close. Aramis had no idea what was going to happen next. He did not really care.

MMMM

D’Artagnan pushed the horse to a gallop. He was not sure how much ground he had to make up to catch Bardet. But he had to try. He knew what Bardet was going to do, he was going to hand himself in. Bardet thought that by doing so he could save Aramis. A noble gesture, but no doubt fruitless. All that would be gained would be the Cardinal having two Musketeers to kill.

He had woken, with the tavern landlord crouched over him about thirty minutes before. It had taken him a few minutes to get his bearings. The landlord had wanted to call for a doctor, but d’Artagnan knew he was fine. Bardet had only hit him hard enough to render him unconscious for a little while, he had a headache, but nothing he could not handle. 

When he knew that he would have to go after Bardet he had pulled off his pauldron and hidden it in his saddle bag. He had used Bardet’s hat and the plain cloak he had been wearing as a disguise. He did not know if he was wanted in Paris or not, so did not want to take the chance. 

He hoped he would catch up with Bardet before they reached the centre of Paris where he might be recognised. He wanted to stop Bardet, to remind him that was he was doing was folly. Aramis would not want Bardet to sacrifice himself, particularly when it would most likely be in vain. What chance was there that anyone would listen to a man who was wanted for a crime where the only sentence was death?

MMMM

It had taken Richelieu a few seconds to regain his composure. All the men in the yard were a little stunned that a wanted man, wanted for a capital crime, had just walked in and given himself up. But when Richelieu did recover his wits he was quick to signal his Red Guard to grab Bardet. 

But Bardet was not ready to be arrested. He pushed the men off him and stood his ground.

‘I have something to say, something important,’ he said a little breathlessly, it was clear to Athos that Bardet knew his time was limited.

The Red Guard stepped forward a second time.

‘If you let me speak, I won’t resist you, I’ll confess…’

A third time the men stepped forward, this time they managed to take hold of Bardet by the doublet and started to pull him away.

‘Please let me finish,’ yelled Bardet as he was roughly grabbed by the Red Guardsmen.

Roux held up his hand, he glanced across at Treville, Athos and Porthos who were all watching, stunned. 

‘What do you have to say, you cannot save yourself?’ Roux said sternly. 

Athos realised Roux was as shocked at the turn of events as he was. But he had to retain his character, that of an impartial judge.

‘You’ve arrested an innocent man,’ said Bardet as he shrugged free of the men holding him, he turned back to the judge and the Cardinal.

‘Who are you talking about?’ asked Roux, ‘spit it out man, we do not have all day.’

‘Aramis has done nothing wrong.’

Athos wondered what Bardet was trying to do. He was convinced that the marksman was beyond their help. He had looked so defeated, so frail, a shadow of his former self when he had been dragged away, unable to support his own weight.

‘A few years ago I propositioned him, he’s an attractive man, I thought I would try my luck,’ began Bardet.

‘We do not need to listen to this,’ said the Cardinal stepping forward.

Roux turned to the Cardinal and said, ‘yes we do.’

The Cardinal glared at the judge. Athos could almost see the man’s mind racing ahead trying to think of a way to stop what was about to happen. 

Bardet continued, ‘Aramis turned me down. He said he was not interested, said he did not approve of such practices.’

Bardet glanced across to Athos and Porthos. Athos nodded subtly before taking a step forward.

‘He asked me as well, and Porthos,’ said Athos glancing across to the Musketeer stood at his side. 

Porthos nodded his agreement as he affected a disdainful look towards Bardet.

Treville turned to Roux, ‘sir,’ he said, ‘surely this is yet further evidence that my man has been wrongly arrested. He has not confessed, despite the interrogations he has endured.’

Roux nodded and looked at Richelieu who was scowling at Bardet.

‘Your Eminence, I think even you have to accept that Aramis has been wrongly accused. You had no proof in the first place and now you have even less.’

The Cardinal could not find a response. Roux turned to Bardet.

‘Despite your heinous despicable crime, you have shown great courage with your confession. You have saved an innocent man’s life. I cannot prevent your execution...but I will ensure that it is swift,’ said Roux.

As the Red Guard closed in on Bardet again, Roux stopped them.

‘You will also not be interrogated, I see no need to cause you suffering.’

Bardet nodded. Before the Red Guard could stop him, he walked forward a few paces and stopped in front of Athos and Porthos.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. 

Athos nodded, ‘we know...thank you.’

The exchange was quiet and brief but Athos could see that Bardet was glad to have spoken to them. He allowed the guards to pull him away and march him towards the Chatelet. As he was taken away he looked across at the body of Berger one last time. Athos could see that Bardet had lost his battle with the tears he had been holding back since he had first seen the body.

Richelieu was fuming, he had turned to one of his men and was talking quietly. Roux glanced across to Treville before stepping forward.

‘Cardinal, I must insist that Aramis is released immediately. He can be given into the care of his fellow Musketeers...I am sure you would not want to be seen to allow his continued suffering.’

The Cardinal glowered at Roux. He nodded his head once before walking away, his robes billowing out behind him. 

Roux turned to Treville, ‘I have my carriage with me, you can use it to get him back to your garrison.’

‘Sir,’ said Treville, ‘are you sure you want to be seen associating with us...with him. I know he’s been cleared of any wrongdoing, but the rumour is still going to be there.’

Roux shook his head, ‘I don’t care, that young man needs caring for, and if I can offer even a small amount of help I shall.’

Treville nodded his thanks before turning to Porthos.

‘Go back to the garrison, prepare the infirmary, you saw the state of him, you’ll know what we need ready. Find Lemay, we might need his help as well.’

Porthos nodded, Athos knew he would probably have wanted to go with Treville and himself to get Aramis but he followed the order without question. Athos also knew that Porthos might not be able to contain himself if he came across Gagnon in the process of retrieving their friend. 

Treville turned to the imposing building and started to walk towards it saying, ‘let’s get him back. Let’s get him safe.’

MMMM

Treville led the way along the corridor, one of the guards at the door had indicated where Aramis was. As they approached the room they saw Gagnan and a couple of his assistants walking away. Gagnan glanced back at them before disappearing around a corner. 

They reached the cell and pulled the door open. Aramis was lying on his side on the ground. He was shivering uncontrollably, he had been stripped of his clothes and left alone. A rope was loosely wound around his wrists. Treville guessed he had been hanging from the rope which was looped around a hook in the ceiling. His Musketeer had pulled his right leg up but did not appear to be able to bend his left leg, vicious bruises and swelling on his knee showed Treville why. After his last torture session, Gagnon had decided to humiliate Aramis by leaving him naked and unable to curl up to try to maintain any semblance of warmth his body might still have.

Athos was pulling off his cloak as he walked toward his friend, he knelt beside him and gently reached out a hand to rest on Aramis’ shoulder. The man flinched away slightly, a small but significant move. Despite his vacant look earlier there was something still there, some need for self-preservation. A good sign thought Treville. 

‘I have never slept with a man.’

Treville saw Athos visible sigh at the quiet remark from Aramis.

‘There’s not much we can do for him here,’ said Treville, ‘let’s get him up and out.’

‘Aramis,’ said Athos quietly, ‘we’ve come to take you home.’

Aramis did not respond for a few seconds. They waited, listening to his short, panted breaths. 

‘Please…’

The response was so quiet they barely heard it, but it was enough.

‘We’ll try not to hurt you, but I’m not sure we’ll manage it,’ said Treville as he helped Athos to wrap the injured man in the cloak.

As expected Aramis reacted to the movement, even the action of laying the cloak over him caused his limited breath to hitch a few times. The pulled him up to sit, he was heavy in their arms, unable to help them. Slowly and with as much care as they could afford they got him to his feet. 

Knowing that they were causing him pain just by holding him upright they slowly moved him forward. They were supporting all his weight, not quite carrying him but not far off. He was still shivering and now whimpering in pain with even the slightest movement. It was a slow laborious affair but they made their way along the corridor. 

As they passed the last cell Treville looked across to see Bardet watching them, tears flowing freely from his eyes. Treville nodded to him, he nodded back. There was nothing to say.

The journey across the courtyard, passed the body of Berger, was a long one. Aramis had his head bowed, they were not sure if he had his eyes open. But he was conscious, he was trying to walk, but failing miserably.

Roux held the carriage door open himself. Athos helped Treville get Aramis into the carriage and settled half sat, half lying across the seat. Treville had leaned the pained main against him. 

‘I’ll follow with the horses,’ said Athos. 

As the carriage began to move off, Aramis again moaned in pain, the bumpy road not helping his assortment of injuries. 

‘I’m sorry I cannot help Bardet,’ said Roux, ‘but he did confess to a capital crime. There is nothing I can do for him.’

Treville nodded, ‘I know. What he did was probably the bravest thing I have ever seen.’

‘Please keep us updated on Aramis’ progress, my wife has been very worried about him,’ said Roux looking at the quiet man.

Treville nodded, ‘it’s going to take him a while to recover from this, both physically and mentally. I can’t even guess at half of what they did to him, I don’t think I want to know.’

Roux nodded, ‘their methods are barbaric, and I wish there was something I could do to change it, but I am one man. Most of the other judges would happily see more people put to death for much less than he was accused of.’

Treville smiled sadly, thinking about Bardet. The only saving grace was that Roux had managed to ensure the man would not suffer, too much. He realised that they owed it to Bardet to ensure Aramis fully recovered.

MMMM 

Porthos was aware of a horse falling into step beside him as he walked toward the garrison. His earlier canter having been slowed due to the number of people around.

‘Why are you only just reaching the garrison?’ asked d’Artagnan.

Porthos stared at d’Artagnan for a few seconds before he could respond, ‘what are you doing here? ...it doesn’t matter now...help me get the infirmary ready for Aramis.’

‘What!’ 

‘Athos and Treville are bringing him...I’ll explain in a minute.’

D’Artagnan looked stunned, Porthos managed a smile.

‘Bardet?’ asked d’Artagnan after a moment's thought.

Porthos worked out what had happened, d’Artagnan was sporting a bruise on his cheek which had not been there when he had left the younger man at the tavern in the early hours. 

‘Yes, Bardet turned up at the Chatelet...they’d just finished...with Berger. D’Artagnan when I got there, I honestly thought they were going to kill Aramis...I was almost glad when they brought Berger out.’

D’Artagnan looked away. Porthos felt awful for being grateful that another man had died instead of his friend. But he also knew that Berger looked in a worse state than Aramis. Although clearly suffering from many injuries and obviously mentally affected by his treatment, Pothos was sure Aramis would recover. Berger, on the other hand, had looked as though he had lost his mind, his incoherent mumblings before the execution began were not those of a sane man. 

They entered the garrison. Porthos looked around. Most of the men were out either on patrol, at the Palace or on the firing range. He was glad there would not be much of an audience for Aramis’ return. He had no idea what the mood was in the garrison. The rest of the men would have known what Bardet was wanted for and why Aramis had been arrested. Porthos wondered if the men would be sympathetic or uncaring about their fellow Musketeers. 

A stable boy took their horses as Porthos and d’Artagnan walked to the empty infirmary. Porthos moved the beds around a little, he wanted them to be able to work without moving around the other beds. D’Artagnan busied himself collecting water, cloths and bandages. Porthos watched him for a few moments. 

‘When they get here, you know what you must do don’t you?’

D’Artagnan paused in his work his head bowed slightly, ‘yes, treat him as a Musketeer in need of my help, a brother soldier.’

Porthos smiled, d’Artagnan knew what to do. It was not the first time he had been forced to put aside his feelings for Aramis and deal with his injuries. But, thought Porthos, this might be the hardest time. Aramis had endured the torment and injuries to keep d’Artagnan safe. D’Artagnan would have to accept what Aramis had done for him and not blame himself.

MMMM

Athos entered the yard and threw his reins to the stable boy who quickly moved the two horses out of the way of the following carriage. Porthos and d’Artagnan emerged from the infirmary. Athos looked at d’Artagnan who shook his head, explanations could wait for now.

When the carriage door was opened and Athos stepped in to help Treville with Aramis, Athos heard d’Artagnan gasp. He was not surprised, even wrapped in the cloak with most of his injuries hidden the marksman was a sorry sight. His head was still bowed, he was taking short, pained breathes and he could not walk unaided.

Pothos stepped forward and relieved Treville of escort duty. 

‘Where is the doctor?’

‘Lemay is unavailable and none of the others would come near ‘im,’ replied Porthos, unable to hide his anger.

D’Artagnan had grabbed Aramis from the other side, he looked over to Treville.

‘We don’t need any help, we can look after him. He needs people he knows and trusts right now.’

Treville nodded, ‘do what you have to do, I’ll leave you to it, but give me an update once you’ve got him settled.’

Treville turned back to Roux who was watching them all. Athos nodded to the judge who smiled back. 

Porthos and d’Artagnan had reached the infirmary door with Aramis and were guiding the weak man inside. Athos followed. He stood back allowing the others to make a start. It would not do to crowd them. They all knew what needed to be done. He watched as the two men worked quickly and calmly. They spoke quietly to each other. They both offered frequent words of comfort and encouragement to Aramis. 

D’Artagnan was acting professionally, Athos could see the emotions bubbling under the surface, but he was keeping them in check not allowing them to spill over and affect his work. 

Porthos, although still obviously angry at the whole situation, was allowing d’Artagnan to take the lead in their care for Aramis. After applying a few temporary bandages to the worst of his wounds they went about cleaning him. Aramis was plastered in dirt, a mixture of blood and sweat and whatever else he had been forced to lie in during his time in the Chatelet. As the dirt was washed off him, it became apparent how pale their friend was. He was still shivering. 

Porthos looked up, ‘could you get the fire going? I think we need to warm him up a bit before we start to think about the inevitable fever he’s going to have to get through.’

Athos had noticed the infected wounds as they were cleaning Aramis’ back. D’Artagnan had been careful to clean the wounds thoroughly. Aramis had always been keen that they all knew how to deal with infected wounds. Now that knowledge was going to pay off.

All the while they worked around him Aramis was silent, apart from wincing and hissing in pain occasionally the man did not say a word. He was conscious and followed his friend's ministrations with his eyes. He did not try to stop them as they manhandled him on to his side so that they could clean his back. He did not react when Porthos bound the broken fingers of his left hand together. And other than a slight flinch he did not protest as d’Artagnan stitched the wound on his hip.

Athos wondered if his friend had felt all the pain he could and was now barely feeling anything. Aramis was watching d’Artagnan and Porthos but his eyes were a little unfocused still. Athos wondered if Aramis truly knew he had been released. Perhaps he thought he was dreaming and that at any moment he would wake up still lying on the cold stone floor of the Chatelet. 

Noises outside drew Athos’ attention. Some of the men were returning from patrols and guard duty. He noticed Treville appear from his office, he glanced at the infirmary and nodded to Athos. As Athos closed the shutters, so that the other men could not see what was happening within, he saw their Captain walk up to the arriving men. He suspected the Captain would ask the men to give Aramis and them a little privacy and space. The men would do as they were told, but Athos wondered, what would they think? 

D’Artagnan had pulled up a chair beside Aramis and was wrapping bandages around his wrists and right ankle. Aramis’ left ankle was swollen and bruised where he appeared to have been kicked. Pothos was busy laying cool cloths over his friend's ankle and knee in the hope of bringing the swelling down.

‘Is there any of the foul tasting pain killing drink of ‘is on the shelf?’ asked Porthos. 

Athos smiled as he remembered the last time Aramis had made Porthos drink some of the concoction. The burly Musketeer had reacted like a child as he swallowed the liquid, he had sworn at Aramis and pushed him away. But the draught did work, it was effective at dulling even the worst pain. 

Athos found a couple of small bottles of the drink. He passed it to d’Artagnan who turned back to Aramis who was watching him. His eyes flitting between d’Artagnan and the bottle in his hand. 

‘You know this will help you,’ said d’Artagnan calmly. 

Aramis managed a small nod. D’Artagnan held Aramis head up slightly and held the bottle to his lips. Aramis managed a couple of sips before turning away, pulling a face as he did so. 

‘Well done, that will do for now...can you manage some water, it will help with the taste?’

Another small nod.

Athos watched as d’Artagnan helped their friend to drink a little water. The man could only manage a few sips, but to the rest of them, it seemed like a minor triumph. 

Porthos sat back in the chair he had pulled up next to Aramis legs. He had just changed the cooling cloths over. He looked up at Athos and nodded.

‘He’s gonna be alright. He has injuries all over his body, there is an infection, but d’Artagnan has cleaned it well. It’s gonna get worse, but he will get through it,’ Porthos turned to look at Aramis, ‘won’t you?’

Aramis managed to focus on Porthos and nodded again. Athos wondered how aware his friend was. He seemed to understand what was going on around him, but he must have been overwhelmed by the events of the last few hours. 

‘Sleep, Aramis. We’re not going anywhere, one of us is going to be with you all the time. You’re not going to be left alone.’

D’Artagnan waited a few seconds until Aramis’ eyes had closed and his shallow breathing had settled before turning to look at Athos and Porthos. The emotions he had been suppressing were starting to bubble to the surface. Athos knew the young man needed to deal with his frustrations. Porthos probably did as well. 

‘I’ll sit with him for a little while. You two go and sort your horses out and give Treville the update he wants,’ said Athos. 

Both men nodded. D’Artagnan looked back at Aramis who, now that he was clean and sleeping on a bed looked peaceful for the first time since he had arrived at the garrison.

‘He’s so quiet.’

‘He has had a busy day,’ remarked Athos with a smile, ‘but we have him back now. The hard part is making sure he recovers fully. And he will need you for that.’

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘it’s going to be difficult, we’ll have to be so careful.’

‘Let us worry about that. We’ll keep the shutters closed as much as possible and make sure no one else comes in. When he needs to talk about it we need to let him.’

Athos watched as d’Artagnan again looked back at Aramis. Perhaps the hardest part of the whole horrendous event would be putting their friend back together again.

Aramis had a long recovery ahead of him.


	7. Chapter 7

D’Artagnan had been finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. He knew he had nodded off a couple of times. He knew he should ask Porthos or Athos to take over from him for a few hours. He had not slept, properly, since Aramis had been taken and he had been forced to leave the city. Now that Aramis was back and relatively out of danger the lack of sleep was catching up on d’Artagnan. 

His lover had slept soundly for several hours the previous day. He had woken briefly, a little confused in the early evening. They had managed to get him to drink more water and to take another couple of sips of the painkiller. He had drifted off to sleep again quite quickly. They had decided that if his body needed him to sleep they would let him. They had some broth ready, being kept warm on the fire for when he was strong enough.

A slight movement from Aramis brought d’Artagnan back to full alertness. The injured man was looking at him with focused eyes. 

‘It’s not safe,’ he said quietly, ‘you shouldn’t be here.’

‘No Aramis,’ replied d’Artagnan was a smile, ‘it is safe and I should be here. We got you out. You’re at the garrison.’

Aramis frowned and moved his head to look around.

‘How?’

The question was inevitable. They had decided not to tell Aramis the reason for his release until he was a little stronger. The last thing the man needed was to be told that Bardet had given himself up to save him. That another man was going to die in his place. For now, Aramis needed to concentrate on himself.

‘They had no proof. They had to let you go,’ was the simple answer d’Artagnan gave, it was the truth. The rest could wait.

‘Hurts…’ 

‘I know. I’ve got the painkiller here...have a couple of sips of it. You know it helps.’

He helped his lover to take the painkiller. After a drink of water, Aramis looked in a little less pain. 

‘Do you think you could manage something to eat? Bread? Or there is broth?’

Aramis nodded, ‘both...I’m really hungry...they didn’t give me any food...how long was I there for?’

‘Nine days.’

Aramis frowned.

‘Did it seem longer? It felt like an eternity to me.’

Aramis thought for a moment, ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I will, but I don’t feel up to it yet.’

‘That’s alright,’ said d’Artagnan as he collected the broth and settled back in the chair. 

He lifted Aramis’ head a little and held the cup to his lips. D’Artagnan was pleased when the injured man managed to drink half of the liquid. 

‘Well done, that will do for now. Some of the wounds are infected, you’re already showing signs of fever. I’m sorry, but you’re going to get worse before you get better.’

Aramis smiled, ‘I don’t think it can be worse than what has already happened.’

D’Artagnan glanced across at the closed door and shuttered windows. Satisfied that they would not be disturbed he reached out and took Aramis’ right hand in his. He felt Aramis trying to close his fingers around his hand, but the man was still too weak to even do that simple thing. 

Aramis looked upset, d’Artagnan rubbed his thumb across the uncooperative fingers.

‘It’s alright. You’ll get stronger, it’s just going to take some time.’

Aramis nodded before closing his eyes again. Within a matter of minutes he was sleeping. 

MMMM 

The two guards knew better than to get too close to the angry looking Musketeer. They pointed at the cell he needed and remained at the end of the corridor. 

D’Artagnan approached the barred cell. Bardet was already at the door watching him.

‘How is he?’

D’Artagnan could not help the smile that played across his lips. The man was actually quite similar to Aramis. He was, even now, a day before his execution, more concerned with other people. 

‘He is ill. He has a fever, but we are getting him through it. He’s woken several times, most of the time he is lucid. But occasionally he is confused and scared. He thinks he’s still here. We think, we hope, that once the infection has cleared up and the fever dies down he will be over the worst of it.’

Bardet nodded, ‘good. Has he been left with any lasting injuries? Will he still be able to carry on as a Musketeer?’

Again d’Artagnan smiled.

‘We were a little concerned about his fingers, three were broken, but they seem to be healing well. He’s not been able to get out of bed yet, but it’s early days. He is still very weak.’

Bardet looked down for a few seconds. D’Artagnan glanced behind the captive man and saw the remains of a meal. Roux had kept his word. For a condemned man Bardet was being treated well. 

‘Why did you do it?’ asked d’Artagnan, ‘you could have escaped, you could have lived, started again somewhere else.’

Bardet looked at him, tears in his eyes, ‘I realised when I heard you talking about your relationship with Aramis that I had wanted that with Berger. We were getting to that point. And I just don’t think I want to live without him. I loved him. I hadn’t admitted it to myself, or him, but I did...I do.’

D’Artagnan realised he would be willing to die for Aramis and knew that his lover would do anything to keep him safe. The last couple of weeks had proven that. D’Artagnan understood what Bardet was saying. 

‘Thank you then, although my thanks is really not enough for what you did. What you are doing. You’re going to…’

Bardet interrupted him, ‘I know what I’m going to do. And I am scared, but it is going to happen and I accept that. All I ask is that you and he live. For me. Stay alive, stay safe from them, from the idiots who think that what we are is wrong.’

D’Artagnan nodded. 

‘And tell Aramis, when he is better, when it won’t upset him too much, tell him that he must not dwell on what I have done for him and for you. Tell him that I want him to get better. I want him to recover fully. I know it will take him a while but he must...I order it.’

D’Artagnan sniffed, trying not to cry.

‘He showed me that not everyone's the same, that there are kind and gentle people out there. People who will help. Not everyone is rough and mean.’

‘I’ll tell him. I’ll give him your order. We will do as you ask.’

‘Thank you,’ said Bardet quietly.

MMMM

Gagnon advanced on him with the white-hot poker. Aramis tried to pull away but could not. He turned his face away but one of the men turned him back holding him firmly. He could not escape the hot metal.

Gagnon pressed the poker against his chest. He screamed and pulled and twisted.

‘Aramis!’

The pain was too much.

‘Aramis wake up. It's not real. You’re safe.’

With a start, Aramis opened his eyes. Porthos was holding him firmly. Aramis stared at him, panting hard.

‘You with me?’

Aramis nodded. He glanced around as his panted breathing settled. 

‘Sorry…’

Porthos smiled as he released his friend. Aramis blinked a few times. The pull of sleep preventing him from remaining awake. The last thing he was aware of was Porthos asking him to sleep soundly this time.

MMMM

Unlike Berger's execution, Bardet was to be hanged publicly. Athos now suspected the private nature of Berger's demise had only happened so that Aramis could be forced to watch. The Cardinal was a cruel and vindictive man who had too much power for his own good, thought Athos. 

Porthos had offered to stay with the still feverish Aramis so that d’Artagnan could attend the hanging. Athos felt that they owed Bardet the support. D’Artagnan felt that he owed Bardet his life and Aramis’ life. Without Bardet actions, Athos knew that Aramis would likely have been broken, confessed and probably given d’Artagnan up as well. Bardet had saved both of his friends. 

A large crowd had gathered for the execution. Three men were to die that day. Bardet, and two murders. The crowd did not care what the men were accused of, they were just hungry to see them die. Athos hated the bloodlust that boiled up at such events. 

He and d’Artagnan found themselves a spot near the back of the gathered people. 

‘He seemed quite calm when I spoke to him yesterday, he was more interested in Aramis than anything else,’ said d’Artagnan quietly. 

‘I think, knowing that Aramis should be alright means that his sacrifice was not in vain, he will go to his death at peace,’ replied Athos. 

‘I hate, this, couldn’t they do it in private. He doesn’t deserve to be a spectacle.’

Athos shook his head, ‘I agree, but his crime carries a death sentence and hangings are carried out in public...it is abhorrent.’

The crowd jeered as the three condemned men were brought out. The two murders were first to be pushed up the steps. One of them was so terrified he was being manhandled by two guards. The second one walked unaided but was shouting abuse back at the gathered crowd. Bardet walked with apparent confidence, he climbed the steps steadily. As he reached the readied ropes he looked out over the crowd. 

Athos made eye contact with him and nodded. Bardet was obviously scared, but he managed to nod back. D’Artagnan sniffed a couple of times, before composing himself with a deep breath. 

The crowd hushed as the priest gave each man absolution. The nooses were placed around the men’s necks. Bardet glanced across at Athos and d’Artagnan again. He was visibly shaking. 

Athos heard d’Artagnan whisper, ‘thank you,’ as the hangman performed his duty. 

The crowd cheered as the three men were put to death. The execution was performed swiftly as had been promised. Bardet was killed with little ceremony or fuss. 

The two Musketeers remained where they were for a few minutes. Athos waited for d’Artagnan to make a move. He knew Bardet’s death would have affected the younger man deeply. 

When d’Artagnan was ready, he turned and walked slowly away, Athos fell into step beside him. Neither man spoke until they had reached the garrison. 

‘I have to tell Aramis what has happened. He’s going to know we’ve not told him everything.’

‘Would you like me to tell him?’ asked Athos, although he knew what the answer would be.

‘No, it has to be me. I want it to be me,’ replied d’Artagnan, ‘when he’s over the fever, when he can understand and remember. It’s not a conversation I want to have more than once.’

MMMM

The fever had abated a few days ago but Aramis still felt weak and a little lost. As he had recovered from the worst of the fever and was able to remain awake for a few hours rather than minutes he had gradually been able to make sense of everything.

He could not remember much of the journey back from the Chatelet. He could remember being in pain, but somehow knowing that he was safe and that the people manhandling him and hurting him were not doing so with malice. He could remember Treville talking to him quietly, telling him to hold on and that they were going to fix him.

When they had got him into the infirmary and Porthos and d’Artagnan had gone about cleaning him and tending to his injuries he found it very difficult not to cry from the pain. He held it in as much as he could. What they were doing was for his benefit and he knew that the sooner it was done the better. Thinking back he knew he had been confused and still scared. He was not sure if what was happening was real or another of the frequent dreams he had had whilst incarcerated. 

He had dreamed of spending time with d’Artagnan. He had dreamed about raucous nights out with Porthos. He had dreamed about missions with Athos, where they would be down to their last few musket balls but still beat the odds. All the dreams had ended with him either waking on the stone floor of his cell or tied up in the interrogation room awaiting or enduring some painful attempt to get him to confess. 

The one thing he had to keep reminding himself during the moments of lucidity he experienced in the first few days after he left the Chatelet; was that he had won. He had not given in. He had not confessed. He had not given d’Artagnan up. 

His lover had stayed by his side as much as Porthos and Athos would allow. He had been aware of one moment when Athos had ordered d’Artagnan to go. When the young man had protested that he was not tired and did not need to sleep Porthos had grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out telling him they were going to the nearest tavern for a meal instead. Athos had caught him smiling at the exchange, Athos had rolled his eyes and told him he would have to have words with the young man when he was better.

The small moments of camaraderie between the four of them had become an anchor for Aramis. Now that he was awake for longer his friends would talk to him idly about everyday things. He knew they were trying to keep him distracted, keep him from dwelling on what had happened and how he had come to be saved. Aramis sighed at the thought of the rather one-sided conversation he had had with d’Artagnan a few days before. Once he had been free of the fever the young man had sat down next to him. 

He had been quiet for a few seconds, Aramis had known he was going to tell him something important. Something that had been on his mind for a few days. 

‘I need to tell you about your release and why they let you go,’ he had begun. 

Aramis was propped up with a few pillows, it had been a minor achievement for him to reach the semi sat up state. He looked at d’Artagnan expectantly, sensing it would be better to remain quiet and let his lover speak.

‘You were released because Marc turned himself in.’

Aramis had been unable to stop the reaction. His breathing had quickened, he found himself feeling panicked. D’Artagnan had moved to sit on the edge of the bed and laid one hand on his chest. His lover had waited patiently for him to calm himself.

‘He turned up at the Chatelet, just after they had...killed...Simon. He told Richelieu and the other men there that he had propositioned you a few years ago and that you had turned him down.’

Aramis had been unable to respond, he had been so shocked. He had blinked back tears for a few minutes as d’Artagnan explained what had happened. When his lover had described the conversation he had with Bardet the day before his death Aramis had lost his battle with the tears. D’Artagnan had leaned forward and wiped them away.

The news that Bardet had taken the gamble of handing himself in to save his life was overwhelming. The ploy might not have worked, they might both have died needlessly. Aramis found it to be the single bravest thing he had ever known a person to do. 

Now he was lying, still restricted to bed watching the sunlight make its way across the room. They had opened the shutters to allow the natural light in. Porthos was sat by the bed reading a book. Aramis realised he must have been asleep for a while as the last thing he remembered was Athos talking to him about some of the new cadets. 

‘How are you feeling?’ asked Porthos when he noticed his friend was awake, ‘want some of the painkiller?’

‘No,’ replied Aramis with a smile, ‘it hurts but not as bad as it was.’

‘It you’re in pain you should have some of the painkiller, there’s no point in suffering...or is this you trying to punish yourself for what happened, with Bardet?’

Aramis looked away, his friend reached across and gently turned his face back, Porthos looked at him sternly. 

‘Sorry,’ said Aramis, ‘yes, please, I will have some of the painkiller.’

He watched Porthos busy himself getting the small bottle of liquid and pouring a fresh cup of water.

‘D’Artagnan told us what Marc said, that you were not to dwell on it. That you were to get better.’

‘He ordered me to get better,’ remarked Aramis with a sad smile.

‘Yes he did, and you are going to do as he asked...as he ordered.’

Aramis thought for a moment. Bardet was correct, there was no point dwelling on what had happened. Bardet had saved his life by sacrificing his own and Aramis had to honour that sacrifice by recovering and moving on. He knew it would not be easy.

‘You don’t ‘ave to do this on your own you know,’ said Porthos, ‘we’re here, you can talk to us...you should talk to us.’

Aramis nodded again as he felt his eyes closing again, ‘I will do my best.’

‘That’s all we ask.’

MMMM

Monsieur Roux had lent them his carriage again. Treville had visited and explained what his men wanted to do and asked if Roux could help. The judge did not hesitate in agreeing to the request. 

The second journey in the carriage had not been as uncomfortable for Aramis as the first time. Athos could tell Aramis could remember the first journey, his friend was very quiet on the journey. He was, no doubt, thinking about the first time he had been in the carriage. Aramis had continued to recover well. His bruises were fading, but he was still very weak. Porthos had helped Athos to get Aramis into the carriage. The man had tried not to react as his injuries were agitated by the action. Aramis was determined he was going to make the journey, Athos was not going to stop him unless it became clear that he was suffering too much. 

They had continued to stay with Aramis, not leaving him alone for more than a few minutes and never when he was asleep. They did not want him to wake up alone. He was having frequent nightmares about his time in the Chatelet. More than once they had been forced to hold their friend down as he tried to escape from his tormentors. The stitches to the wound on his hip had been pulled twice. Athos had hated having to hold his friend still as they put them back in. The pain the stitching caused him would leave him panting as he was still struggling for breath due to his injured ribs. 

The other Musketeers were keeping their distance, Treville had made it clear that Aramis was being looked after and should be left alone. Athos had not heard any negative comments about Aramis or Bardet, which had pleased him. The general mood amongst the men was one of disgust at their comrade's treatment. But Athos did not know how they felt about the reason for their treatment. He wondered how Aramis would be regarded when he was, eventually, back on full duty. 

As the carriage came to a halt Porthos opened the door and helped Athos ease the stiff Aramis down to the ground. He could still not walk unaided. D’Artagnan led the way as Athos and Porthos assisted Aramis, one man on each side of their injured brother. 

Athos and Porthos ignored Aramis’ hisses of pain, but stopped frequently for him to catch his breath. D’Artagnan had reached their destination and waited for them to catch him up. 

The unmarked grave lay at the corner of the Musketeers section of the graveyard. Athos and Porthos had covertly visited the mass grave in the pauper section of the graveyard. It had been a thankless task but they had found the body of Bardet and with as much reverence as they could, moved the body to a proper, single grave. 

Aramis was leaning heavily on his two friends, Athos did not mind, the fact that he had felt well enough to make the trip was a step in the right direction. Aramis had been at times melancholy and quiet, then quite positive for a while. 

He had been pleased when they had told him about moving Bardet’s body. None of them had been surprised that he had wanted to visit the grave as soon as he was able. 

Now he stood, with the help of his friends, in front of the grave. He did not say anything, none of them did. Athos looked away when he noticed that Aramis had tears in his eyes. They could not leave him on his own, the most they could do was let him grieve without interruption. After a few minutes he nodded to d’Artagnan who knelt by the grave and pushed some of the still loose earth aside. He looked up at Aramis who nodded again. D’Artagnan placed Bardet’s pauldron in the hole he had made and covered it again. There could be no marker on the grave. Bardet had been executed, in the eyes of the church, he had no place in consecrated ground. But the four men who now stood before his grave knew differently.

‘Thank you,’ said Aramis after another few minutes. 

Athos was not sure who Aramis was thanking. Them for helping him make the short journey or Bardet for his ultimate sacrifice. 

It took longer to get back to the carriage. Aramis was panting and sweating from the effort by the time they had got him back in the carriage. He passed out on the journey back to the garrison.

The visit to the grave had been cathartic for them all. But they still needed to get Aramis fully fit.

MMMM

Seeing the grave his friends had dug for Bardet had made Aramis finally realise that he was free of the Chatelet.

He had woken frequently over the last few days, since his release, wondering if he was dreaming. He had often had to take a few minutes to orientate himself. To remember that he was safe, that he had his friends with him. He knew they were concerned about his well being. Physically he was recovering, he was still weak, the trip out to the graveyard had underlined that for them all. His mental well being was what worried his friends. They all knew it would be difficult, they all knew it would take him a long time. 

Aramis wished he could put into words how he felt. Wished he could express fully how grateful he was to them all. But he could not. He found that his mood would change frequently throughout the day. He would feel depressed and melancholy for several hours at a time. But then he would feel quite positive and determined to get himself together and move on. He guessed that time would be his healer. He could not just forget what Bardet had done, forget what he had been through and suddenly be recovered. He had to take his time and accept what Bardet had done, he had to try to understand the man’s motivation. He did not think he deserved the sacrifice the man had made for him. Bardet could have left the area and never been seen again, if it had not been for the chance encounter between him and d’Artagnan that might have been what happened. But serendipity had stepped in.

D’Artagnan had related that Bardet had said he did not want to live without his lover. Aramis could understand, he could not live without d’Artagnan, he was sure of that. 

As he had drifted off into unconsciousness on the carriage journey back from paying his respects, Aramis had again vowed that, however long it took, he would recover. He would do as Bardet had ordered him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more, slightly shorter chapter tomorrow to tie it all up.


	8. Chapter 8

Porthos looked up from the book he was reading, he had spent so much time sitting by his sleeping friend over the past days that he was nearly finished with his third book. He had decided quite early on that Aramis was going to have to buy him some more books to read when he was better. 

The door to the infirmary had opened, Marie Labelle stood on the threshold. 

‘May I come in, I won’t disturb him if he is not up for a visitor?’

‘He’s asleep at the moment but you can stay for a while, he’ll probably wake up soon,’ replied Porthos as he stood from the chair. 

Marie took the offered chair as she looked Aramis over. 

‘How is he doing, I heard it was very bad...when you got him out of that ghastly place.’

‘He’s getting there, he’s still weak. They didn’t feed ‘im at all, but we’ve got him back eatin’ almost normally now. And his injuries are healing well. He had a fever but got over that…’

‘But?’

‘Did d’Artagnan tell you about Marc Bardet?’

Marie nodded sadly, ‘yes...a brave man…’

‘Aramis is having a hard time accepting what he did...but he’s getting there. I think the whole thing has been very overwhelming for him. One minute he’s convinced he’s going to die, the next he finds that someone else died in his place. I think it would take anyone a bit of time to get over that.’

The woman had leaned forward over Aramis to smooth down a few wayward hairs from his face. She looked at him fondly. 

‘It is just so unfair, that he can’t be who he is openly. It’s, frankly just as ridiculous that his affair with Madam Roux has to remain clandestine when her husband fully supports what Aramis does.’

Porthos nodded. Over the past few weeks he had met people who were blinded by the church and law, and at the opposite end of the scale, he had met people who were very accepting of anyone and everyone. But those people were forced to keep their opinions to themselves. 

Aramis stirred slightly, he opened his eyes. When he saw Marie he smiled. Porthos was pleased to see a genuine smile on his friends face. Marie smiled back. 

‘I’m afraid I might not be up to visiting you for a while,’ he said. 

Porthos detected some of the old Aramis charm in his friend's voice. He stepped forward and helped Aramis to sit up a little. Although still weak, Aramis was almost able to get about on his own again, but they were still keeping close to him. 

‘I look forward to seeing you when you are better,’ replied Marie.

She handed him the book she had been carrying when she arrived. It was a small book with a gold trim. Aramis looked at it for a few seconds before looking back at Marie.

‘Thank you,’ he said. 

Porthos got the impression Aramis did not quite know how to react. 

‘I visited your rooms...I was escorting your landlady back there after we had spoken to the Cardinal on your behalf.’

Aramis glanced across to Porthos, he looked confused.

‘When you were...being held,’ said Porthos, ‘Athos and Treville spoke to Richelieu on your behalf, Madam Labelle and Madam Poulin went as well.’

Marie continued, ‘I’m afraid we weren’t much good, but we wanted to try, anything we could to help you...anyway, Claire showed me your rooms, I expect you know what happened.’

Aramis looked down, ‘I was still there when they were ransacking them.’

Porthos hated seeing Aramis remembering what had happened to him. 

Marie had leaned forward and taken his hand in hers as she continued.

‘Well, this book, I thought you might like it to help you start afresh. You are forever quoting lines of poetry from it to me, when we’re together.’

She glanced across to Porthos, a coy smile played across her lips.

Aramis looked up at her, ‘thank you,’ he said again.

Marie leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

‘And now, I am going to walk out of the garrison and make sure I am seen. I want people to see that I have visited my friend...my lover, who was wrongly accused and treated so appallingly.’

Aramis looked a little concerned.

‘And you are not to worry, the scandal is doing me no end of good. You would not believe the number of dinners I have been invited to. Everyone wants to talk to the woman who stood up for the Musketeer.’

She rose and walked to the door before pausing and turning back.

‘Promise me that you and your young man will be careful? You may have been cleared but the suspicion will always follow you now. I am a widow, all I get is talked about behind my back...and invited to dinner parties. But you and dear d’Artagnan...please be careful.’

Aramis nodded with a smile. Porthos held the door open for her. He watched her walk out of the garrison yard, several of the Musketeers stopped what they were doing to watch her go. 

Porthos turned back to Aramis who was looking at the book Madam Labelle had given him. Porthos was pleased that she had made the visit. Aramis looked a little brighter.

MMMM

‘I never asked your name,’ said Aramis as the old woman took the seat next to his bed. 

D’Artagnan had risen from the seat as soon as he had seen Porthos escorting her across to the infirmary. They had seen her approach the garrison gate and speak to the men on duty there. They had called Porthos over and he had taken her by the arm and walked her, slowly, across the yard. 

‘Rebecca,’ replied the old woman with a smile.

She settled herself in the chair and glanced across at Porthos and d’Artagnan, ‘you two can leave us for a few minutes, I won’t wear him out...and you look like you could do with a break young man.’ 

Rebecca looked meaningfully at d’Artagnan, who looked a little surprised as Porthos steered him from the room. She turned back to Aramis who had been watching her with amusement. 

‘I heard that a Musketeer was being interrogated in the Chatelet. Somehow I knew it was you. I am very sorry that happened to you.’

Aramis found that he could not respond, he did not understand why Rebecca had come to visit him.

‘I know what sort of thing goes on in there. One of the guards drinks at the tavern I sometimes visit. He talks about the interrogations...he’s not involved in them, he said that it is horrible. He would not wish it on anyone.’

She lay her hand on Aramis left arm, looking at the still strapped up fingers on his hand. 

‘I expect you are struggling to come to terms with what happened to you, aren’t you?’

Aramis nodded slowly, blinking a few times as he did.

‘I want to tell you about my son, Paul. He was like you. But he was unhappy, he tried to deny it, even to himself. But I knew. A mother knows, she can see it from an early age. Paul’s father would have killed him if he had known. Paul married a woman, pretty thing, but there was no love between them. Paul only married her to try to convince everyone else that he was...normal.’

She paused and looked off into the distance for a few moments, Aramis saw a look of sadness in her eyes. 

‘She left him, I didn’t blame her. He couldn’t settle...he died. He killed himself.’

‘I’m sorry…’

‘Don’t be, it was a release for him, I am sure. If he had accepted who he was, like you have done, he might have still been alive today. Yes he would have had to be careful, he would have spent his life in secrecy and shadows, but I think he would have been happy.’

Aramis reached across and took Rebecca’s hand in his right hand and gently squeezed it, trying to offer her comfort. She smiled at him again. 

‘What I am trying to say is that, what has happened to you has been horrific, but it is done. You and your friend out there can move on. But never deny who you are...at least to yourself. Obviously, you must deny it to everyone else. The moronic idiots who do as they are told, believe what they are told to believe and hate who they are told to hate. But you and your friends, must not hide.’

Aramis looked away, out of the window. He could see d’Artagnan and Porthos sat at the table across the yard. D’Artagnan was watching the infirmary waiting for a sign that he could return after being banished by Rebecca. 

Aramis thought about what Rebecca had said, he had known he was a little apprehensive about trying to return to a normal life, as normal as his life ever was. D’Artagnan had been very careful around him. Other than holding his hand there had been little contact between them. A tiny thought had lingered at the back of his mind. A thought that perhaps for both of their sakes they should not be in a relationship anymore. 

But Rebecca had made him think again. She was correct, they both knew they would have to be even more careful and discreet than they had been. Why should they stop? Why should they be unhappy, denying who they were?

Rebecca was watching him as the thoughts went through his mind. 

‘When you are better, I wouldn’t object to a visit from you and your young man. Two soldiers checking on an elderly lady who they helped a while ago will not draw any suspicion.’

Aramis smiled at her, ‘we will gladly visit you, Rebecca.’

Rebecca slowly stood and looked around, she crossed to the table at the side of the room and picked up a cup, she filled it with water. Aramis had not noticed the small posy of flowers she had left on the table by his bed. She put the flowers in the cup and returned them to the small table. 

‘Thank you for speaking to me,’ said Aramis as he looked at the flowers with a smile.

‘You’re welcome young man,’ she said, ‘now you concentrate on your recovery.’

‘Yes madam, I shall.’

Aramis watched the old woman slowly make her way to the door. Porthos and d’Artagnan had spotted her and walked across to meet her. D’Artagnan took her arm and walked her back across the garrison yard and out onto the street. Aramis suspected his lover was receiving the same words of wisdom that he had been given. 

MMMM

D’Artagnan was pleased to see Aramis continue to improve over the next few days. His wounds healed and he began to walk again. The first few times he had leaned heavily on whichever of them was helping him but then moved on to hobbling about using a pair of crutches. They allowed him out of the infirmary when the weather was warm and he could sit, in the sunshine with a blanket draped over his shoulders. 

When Constance had returned from her trip away with her husband she had insisted on taking a turn to sit with Aramis. D’Artagnan had been pleased.

Aramis was still suffering from bouts of depression. He would lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours at a time, ignoring any attempt to start a conversation. When he became melancholy they let him work through it. Eventually, he would fall asleep again and generally awoke almost back to his normal self. He had taken to apologising afterwards despite them telling him not to. 

D’Artagnan had managed to steal a few hours with him alone, with the shutters closed and the door shut he would sit on the edge of the bed and take Aramis’ hand in his. They would talk. Aramis had slowly started to tell him what had happened to him in the Chatelet, although it quickly became clear that he could not remember a lot of it. D’Artagnan hoped he would never remember. But he remembered watching Berger being killed, for some reason, despite the others saying he had looked unfocused at the time, Aramis remembered every detail of the barbaric incident. Every scream, every snap of bone.

D’Artagnan wished his lover had not been forced to watch the execution. Aramis had asked him about Bardet’s death. Reluctantly d’Artagnan had told him. Aramis had looked away, tears in his eyes. 

Aramis was still suffering from nightmares. He had woken one night screaming. Porthos had been forced to pin him to the bed hard enough to leave fresh bruises on his already abused body. 

But his lover was improving. It was slow, it was painful, but it was happening. 

D’Artagnan decided that he wanted to be sure that Aramis’ rooms were tidy for when he returned. He knocked on the door and waited for Madam Poulin to let him in. She looked concerned when she saw him standing on her doorstep. 

‘Is he alright?’ she asked. 

With a smile, d’Artagnan replied, ‘yes, he is a lot better than he was...I wondered if it would be alright if I tidied his rooms? He’s not ready to come back yet, but he won’t need reminding of that awful day when he does return.’

Madam Poulin stood aside and let him in. 

‘I’ve already tidied up as best I could. I had one of the neighbours sons help me to straighten the furniture,’ she said as they stood in the small hallway.

‘Thank you,’ said d’Artagnan.

‘And a Madam Roux sent some things for him. Clothes and bed linen. There’s a letter with them. I laid them out on the bed for him. The girl who delivered them said that her mistress had heard that all his belongings had either been destroyed or stolen.’

D’Artagnan smiled, ‘that was generous of her.’

He wondered if Madam Poulin knew that Madam Roux was one of Aramis’ mistresses. He was about to climb the stairs when the landlady stopped him. 

‘Young man, I wanted Aramis to have this, you can give it to him for me,’ she said as she stepped back into her parlour. 

She returned with a key which she handed to d’Artagnan.

‘That is the key to the back door. He only has a key to the front door and one to his rooms. The back door opens out onto a quiet alleyway, hardly anyone goes down there. I thought it might come in handy for him...or you.’

Madam Poulin smiled at him before stepping forward and grabbing him in an enthusiastic hug. 

‘I know he get’s annoyed with me...thinks I’m nosy... I am nosy...but I worry about you boys.’

She stepped back and looked at d’Artagnan hard.

‘Be careful, both of you.’

‘We will,’ he replied, ‘thank you. And thank you for speaking up for him.’

‘I doubt it made much of a difference.’

‘It did. It helped remind us that not everyone is out to get us.’

Madam Poulin smiled, ‘I’ll get the spare key to his rooms for you.’

MMMM

Treville had gathered the men for morning muster. The sun was again shining. Most of the doors and shutters around the garrison had been thrown open to make the most of the balmy weather. 

It had been three weeks since Aramis had been brought back to the garrison. All the men had seen him, all the men knew what he had been accused of. Treville was pleased to see that when Aramis had been sat outside some of the other Musketeers had said hello to him and passed the time of day. He had not been shunned. But Treville wanted to make it clear to all the men that Aramis had done nothing wrong as far as he was concerned. 

‘As you know we lost one of our own recently. Marc Bardet was executed for a crime which he confessed to after he had been named by another man. I do not care what your views are on the matter. Bardet was a fine soldier and his name will be respected. What he did in his own time was his business and nobody else's,’ Treville paused to look the men over. 

‘Aramis was also accused of a crime. He was arrested and interrogated. But he did not confess to anything. No charges were brought against him and he was freed from the Chatelet legitimately. He will probably be back amongst you on light duties in the next couple of weeks.’

Treville glanced across to the infirmary, he noticed d’Artagnan was stood in the open doorway. 

‘When Aramis returns you are to treat him in exactly the same way you treated him before. He is a Musketeer and a fine soldier…’

‘Captain,’ said one of the men.

Treville looked at the man who had spoken.

‘Why would we treat him any differently sir? None of us approves of the way he was treated...none of us approves of the way Marc was treated.’

Treville looked across the rest of the men who were all nodding. Not one of his men appeared to disagree with the statement. 

‘Sir,’ said another man, one of the cadets, ‘we’re looking forward to having Aramis back with us,’ the man paused before continuing with a cheeky smile as he spoke, ‘he’s the best marksman, and we need him to teach us. He’s better than the others.’

Some of the commissioned men laughed.

‘And he tells the best stories…’ said one of the other cadets. 

Treville nodded to the men. 

‘Thank you...you are dismissed.’

The men broke rank and moved away. Treville looked across to the infirmary again and saw that d’Artagnan was still standing in the doorway of the infirmary. The young man smiled up at the Captain before disappearing inside.

MMMM

‘Are you alright?’ asked d’Artagnan as he turned back to Aramis. 

Aramis was sat on the edge of the bed. He had managed to dress himself, but had needed to sit for a few minutes before attempting to walk outside. He was staring out of the window in the direction of the yard where the men had been gathered. Aramis was crying.

‘Sorry,’ he said as d’Artagnan sat on the edge of the bed eyeing him with concern, ‘it’s just a bit overwhelming. All the people who have been so kind to me. Madam Labelle, leaving herself open to scandal. Monsieur and Madame Roux; I doubt I would have got out of there without them. Even my landlady seems to have forgotten how mean I am to her. And Rebecca, she walked across the city to visit me.’

Aramis stared off into the distance for a few seconds. 

‘I’m going to do what he said. What Marc said that I should do...what he ordered. I’m going to get over this. I can’t let you all down...can I?’

D’Artagnan smiled, ‘I’d like it if you didn’t let us down. But take your time. We’ll all be here for you.’

Aramis nodded. Tentatively he reached out and took d’Artagnan’s hand. 

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ replied d’Artagnan, ‘what you did, for me, not giving in, not giving me up. I can never thank you enough.’

MMMM

Epilogue

_Three weeks later… ___

__Aramis looked around his rooms. He slowly walked from the living area to his bedroom. He tried not to think about what they had looked like all those weeks before, when he had been taken. They did not look as they looked now._ _

__The rooms had been aired and cleaned. There was no sign of the spilt wine, the floorboards had been scrubbed clean. His bed had been made, crisp new sheets covered the mattress. His chest of drawers now contained new shirts and breeches. He was fairly sure he now had more clothes than he did before. He decided he would gift some to d’Artagnan._ _

__The shelf that he kept his few books on had been put back up waiting for him to add books to it. The book of poetry that Madam Labelle had given him was sitting on his side table, in pride of place._ _

__He returned to the living area and looked around again. His gaze settled on a picture hanging beside the door. He stepped up to it and looked at it carefully. It was not a picture he remembered._ _

__D’Artagnan, who had been waiting for him smiled._ _

__‘When you were still recovering,’ he said, ‘you made a comment to Constance that you were sad that Rebecca’s posy of flowers would die, as looking at them made you remember her words.’_ _

__Aramis glanced at d’Artagnan as he remembered the brief exchange._ _

__‘Constance took the posy, before they started to wilt and she pressed them. She told me what she was doing and I happened to mention it to Madam Labelle.’_ _

__Aramis frowned, he did not understand._ _

__‘Madam Labelle paid to have the pressed flowers framed,’ continued d’Artagnan, ‘we wanted you to have them as a permanent reminder that there are good people out there. That not everyone is evil, or prepared to follow others blindly. Some of us think for ourselves and accept others for who they are.’_ _

__Aramis smiled as he returned his gaze to the framed picture. The posy of flowers forever immortalised as a permanent reminder to him that he had friends who loved him and would look out for him regardless of the situation._ _

__The End._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the somewhat twee ending! I hope you all enjoyed it (the whole thing, not just the twee ending). Thanks for all your comments and kudos. :-)
> 
> I have another story, finished and ready to go. It will follow on from this. Aramis still has some recovering to do, and d’Artagnan is not being as helpful as he thinks he is. I’ll put it up in the next few days. (It’s only a short one, 7000 odd words).

**Author's Note:**

> Damon appears in both ‘Acceptance’ and ‘Blackmail.’ Bardet appears briefly in ‘Acceptance’ and is in ‘Vengeance.’


End file.
